The Girl Who Waited for the Consulting Detective
by ShoweredThoughts
Summary: Prisoner Zero, the Atraxi, and the Doctor leaving Amy was just a month ago. This time, she's tired of waiting and moves to London. She encounters this mysterious man who leaves her intrigued as ever. Turns out, this man is Sherlock Holmes and he has an eye on her as well. But will they ever meet?
1. Chapter 1

**The Girl Who Waited for the Consulting Detective**

**Chapter 1**

**AMY**

The weather in London was drab, but much like any time of the day, the city was filled with hustle and bustle. The sight of seeing tourists wander aimlessly about made Amy Pond laugh, but also made her realize that she was absolutely certain she made a good decision leaving Leadworth – at least for now.

Walking down the sidewalk looking for potential places to work, she stopped at a men's store. Right in the window was a mannequin dressed in a tweed coat and a red bowtie.

Amy's heart stopped.

It had been only a month after the Doctor reappeared in her life after those grueling years of waiting. 12 years. 4 psychiatrists. She stuck through it, always believing that her raggedy doctor would return and he did. But just as quick, he disappeared again, leaving her heartbroken but determined. She wouldn't spend any more years cautiously waiting by her window thinking that her magic doctor would come. She would grudgingly move on because she spent 12 years of her life in a place where nothing _really_ happened.

The time when the Doctor came back replayed in her mind. Her seeing that apple with the smiley face, Prisoner Zero, the Atraxi, the stupid bow tie, and Rory meeting the man he'd been impersonating for her all those years.

Rory was a good fellow. Friend. That's how she remembered introducing him to the Doctor.

"Uh, boyfriend," Rory's voice rang so clear in her head.

He'd always correct her like that, but it was almost like a reflex. They had been friends for so long that the word boyfriend seemed too alien for her. But Rory understood her. He understood why he had to stay in Leadworth and why she needed to go to London, alone.

Leaving the window, and pushing those memories aside, she took a look at her watch. The sky was just about dark, and her stomach was rumbling. Stepping into a restaurant she'd never been in, she took a seat in the middle of the restaurant.

A well dressed man, who was probably the owner, came to give her a menu, "Good evening. Just for one?"

Amy nodded. She wasn't embarrassed that she was eating alone, but the tone of the man's voice made her feel ashamed.

"Alright, love. Here's the menu. Would you like anything to drink? Your waiter Billy will be right with you."

"Tea, thank you," Amy said, her accent catching the looks of the men around her.

Looking around, she could smell the aromas of the different foods. Coming back with her tea, a different man, who was most likely Billy, took her order. The tea warmed her up. It didn't help that she was wearing a mini skirt, but she'd only been in London for five days. She had no time for shopping. Her flatmate made it very clear that she should find a job very soon.

She wondered what her flatmate, Sally, was doing right now. Probably working. Most of the time she was at work, or with her "boyfriend." She was a talkative one, always going on about the "freak" at work, and "Andy," who she assumed was her boyfriend. In all honesty, Sally talked about the Freak more passionately than Andy and at one point Amy thought that the Freak was her boyfriend. Other than that, she was nice.

The door to the restaurant opened, which brought in a cold draft. It made Amy shiver and she automatically reached for her tea. Billy came with her dish and left for the cash register at the door. The owner headed straight for the two men who arrived.

She began eating, but the cane caught her eye. Slowly but surely, her eyes noticed the two guys who sat down in the corner by the window. Her hair fell towards her face and she quickly brushed it away, not taking her eyes off of the men. The man with the well tailored suit underneath the dark wool trench coat and blue scarf caught sight of her and they locked eyes for just long enough for her to notice his striking blue eyes and high cheekbones. He let go of his gaze in order to introduce his friend, or boyfriend.

"I'm not his date!" the blonde man said rather loudly as the owner left.

She giggled. Amy didn't know why she was so curious. There didn't seem anything particularly interesting about the two. The man with the short sandy blonde hair had a cream sweater on over another shirt. His cane lay lazily beside him. He acted rather casual and actually seemed interested in the menu. The man with the curly hair, on the other hand, was facing the window, so Amy couldn't get a very good read of him. What was he staring at?

The owner came back with a candle and thumbs up. A candlelit dinner. Amy couldn't help but to giggle more at the man's awkwardness.

She was terribly confused to why she found the stranger facing the window so interesting. Amy continued eating and occasionally stole a glance at that table. The atmosphere there seemed tense, maybe awkward, seeing that the blonde haired man was constantly shifting in his seat. After finishing her meal, she got the bill from Billy. After paying and sipping the last of her drink, she noticed that the men were both staring out of the window. In a matter of seconds, they both leaped out of their seats with their coats and left. She managed to catch the man's eye again. She smiled. He left. Back at the table, she noticed the cane.

"Excuse me," she got the owner's attention. "I think the man sitting in the corner booth left his cane."

"Ooh, I bet Sherlock's going to be texting me soon. I wonder what's wrong with his date's leg," the owner said as he walked towards the table.

Sherlock. She thought to herself that she would never see him again.

**SHERLOCK**

Three nicotine patches, a text sent to a serial killer, and a minor rush of adrenaline later, Sherlock Holmes found himself in a whirlwind of adventure with his new ... friend? Was that the word? Sherlock just met John Watson fairly recently. Was it correct to call him a friend? No. Sherlock does not have friends, or so he says.

Popping into a quaint restaurant just off of 22 Northumberland St., he got the best vantage point for hopefully catching a killer.

"Thank you, Billy," Sherlock said as he walked in the door, heading straight for the table right by the windows.

Sherlock casually slipped his jacket off, revealing one of many suits that he owns. He sat down, the window to his right side. John sat facing away from the windows. Billy took away the "reserved" sign.

"22 Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it," Sherlock told John.

"He's not just going to ring the doorbell then, now is he? He'd need to be mad," John said as he took his coat off and placed his cane beside him.

Sherlock knew of the limp, he knew just about everything there was to know about John. But John, on the other hand, only scratched the surface of who Sherlock is and how he works.

"He has killed four people," Sherlock told him without taking his eyes off the street.

"Okay," John settled in.

A man came walking towards Sherlock and John's table, "Sherlock. Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free."

Sherlock took his hand and shook it. Looking at Angelo, the man who stood before him and John, Sherlock noticed a woman brushing her fiery red hair off her face. She and he locked eyes for only a moment, but it was long enough to notice almost everything about her, but something was off. Besides her mini skirt, which was terribly inappropriate for that time of the year, she had this look, and although it would usually take Sherlock mere seconds to figure it out, he realized that she had some underlying issues that delved deeper than what was in front of him. His glance could not understand those inner demons, but he wasn't one to go into unnecessary work to find things about a complete stranger. Besides, he had a killer to catch.

Sherlock introduced Angelo to John and briefly explained Angelo's past while keeping his eyes on the street.

"I'm not his date!" John said loudly at Angelo, breaking Sherlock's concentration.

Sherlock moved the menu to the other side of the table and caught a glance of the woman with red hair giggling. She must have caught John's reaction to Angelo's predisposition of the two.

John posed a statement, but Sherlock didn't catch it as he was too busy focusing on the people on the street, "I'm sorry?"

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. It doesn't happen," John chewed and talked at the same time.

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull."

"So who did I meet?"

"What do real people have, then, in their _real_lives?"

"Friends? People they know, people they like, people they don't like? Girlfriends, boyfriends?"

"Well, as I was saying, dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend then?"

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

From Sherlock's peripheral, he saw John do a double take. In the slightest ways that regular people wouldn't see, John tensed up. John mumbled something before continuing on.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" John said which immediately caught Sherlock's attention. "Which is fine, by the way?"

"I know it's fine."

"So you've got a boyfriend?"

Sherlock was quick to respond, "No."

"Right, okay," John scoffed, before licking his lips involuntarily. Sherlock's brow creased slightly. "You aren't attached, just like me."

John resumed eating before Sherlock broke the silence, "John, um, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interest."

"No."

"I'm really not looking for anything," John kept shaking his head as Sherlock spoke.

"No, I'm not asking. No, I'm just saying. It's all fine," John awkwardly put out.

Again, from Sherlock's peripheral, he could see that the woman in the mini was looking over; probably noticing John's obvious shifting in his seat. Sherlock remained stoic.

"Can I get the bill?" the woman asked Billy.

With those simple one syllable words, Sherlock was able to deduce even more minute details about the woman, but nothing else deeper. Nothing past that Scottish accent, that long red mane, or her age. He stopped before realizing that he shouldn't care. She was no use to him at all. But why was he racking his brain around her so much throughout the evening? What was so _wrong_ about her that he felt he needed to actually talk to her? Sherlock caught sight of a taxi stopped and idling by the curb.

"Why a taxi?" he heard himself say. "Oh, that's clever. Why is that clever?"

Quickly, Sherlock grabbed his coat and left the restaurant. Looking back into the restaurant to give John a signal to hurry, he caught the eye of the woman again. This time, she smiled. Sherlock ran off, keeping the picture of the woman smiling deep within his brain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**AMY**

Amy sighed. This wasn't what she wanted out of London. Boring, adventure free, and jobless. She wanted excitement, like when the Doctor came back for her, though she could do without the planet being attacked.

"G'morning," Sally said as she entered the kitchen.

Amy was leaning on the countertop just drinking her tea.

"How's work been?"

"Rubbish. We did a drug bust," clearly Sally wasn't amused.

"Really? Sounds exciting!" Amy thought so, and it sounded way more interesting than her meal alone a few days ago.

"Nah. It was 'pretend'" Sally scoffed. "And at the Freak's house."

A pretend drug bust still sounded better than her dinner, "What's the Freak's name?"

"His name? It's ...," the phone cut Sally off. "Hello? Oh, Andy! I slept fine. How 'bout yourself? We're still on for tonight? Wonderful. See you soon."

Sally put down the receiver and looked at her watch, "I'm off to work. Remember, jobs! Try Chinatown?"

And Sally was off, leaving Amy alone. She sighed again. She thought to herself that if she started her job hunt early today, she'd at least not be so exhausted by the end of the evening. Looking at her credentials, Amy wondered if she'd ever get hired seeing as he last legitimate job was being a kissogram.

Heading off, she ended up at Piccadilly. The smell of fresh coffee invigorated her and she looked for the cafe that was serving that. In a moment, she had her coffee in hand and a receipt in another. Taking a sip, she found that her drink was incredible.

"Piazza Espresso Bar Italiano. Must come back here," she said aloud to herself.

Turning around, she noticed a small collision between two men.

"No," she was dumbfounded.

She couldn't hear their conversation, but the man in the blue scarf looked excited. _Sherlock_. The other man, the same one from the restaurant, was trying to interrupt, pointing to the book that he was holding. She stared for at least a couple of minutes, hoping to get a glance at Sherlock's striking eyes, but otherwise not thinking much about anything else. Amy shook her head and went on her way. London was smaller than she thought.

Ending up in Chinatown, she checked out a few restaurants, the Feng Shui Inn, and felt stumped seeing that no one was hiring. She entered a small little shop selling lucky cats.

"You want lucky cat? Only 10 pound!" the Asian lady sitting at the counter said.

Amy shook her head. She continued looking at the items in the shop.

"Know what? I think I'll buy one," Amy changed her mind. She needed luck.

With her new purchase, she exited the Lucky Cat. She nearly tripped over a man who was bending over at the door beside the shop. Luckily, the Lucky Cat sustained the fall from her hands.

"OH!" she yelped. "Oi! What are you doing?"

Her eyes went wide when she realized it was Sherlock's companion.

"Sorry, I'm ... waiting," he picked up the cat for Amy and gave it to her.

Clearly, he didn't see her that night. Guess he wasn't as observant as Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, but who holds the mail slot open and calls it waiting?" she asked.

"My friend, he's not letting me in," he tried to excuse himself.

"Have you tried ringing the doorbell?" Amy said sarcastically and smiled at the same time.

He smiled back. She noticed the name on the bell: Soo Lin Yao.

"Your friend's girlfriend?" she said, pointing to the name above the bell. Amy was trying to make conversation, seeing as she wanted to know more about this mysterious Sherlock.

"He doesn't have girlfriends, not his area, apparently," he said.

"Ah, and you?" she involuntarily made it sound flirtatious.

John chuckled to himself, "yes, it's my area."

She smiled, "The name's Amy. Amy Pond."

"John Watson," he shook her hand.

It was nice being able to put a name to his face. They exchanged numbers and she left. Amy stopped walking when she turned the corner. What was she doing? All of that flirting just to meet Sherlock? Was she out of her mind?

No, she wasn't. She was finally getting an adventure, even if it was one that didn't quite come to par with the Doctor's accomplishment of saving the world. Looking down at her lucky cat, she noticed a crack that looked similar to the one that was on her bedroom wall, but didn't particularly care – she had too much on her mind. She walked away feeling proud of herself, noting now she didn't need luck if she wanted to meet Sherlock.

**SHERLOCK**

A new case intrigued him. And this time, John was truly there to stay – even if he couldn't really keep up. Sherlock only managed to pick up just bits and pieces of Edward van Coon's whereabouts, but it wasn't enough. Without John, as he was elsewhere, Sherlock decided to go ahead and find the place that van Coon dropped off his package. Piazza Espresso Bar Italiano was the place he was heading towards.

"So you got your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you headed from? Where did the taxi drop you off?" Sherlock looked around before bumping right into John.

John was holding a small dark grey journal of some sort, but Sherlock wanted to get the first word in.

"Eddie van Coon brought a package here the day he died. Whatever was hidden inside that case, I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information. Credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China and then came here."

"Sherlock," John tried to interrupt.

"Somewhere in the streets, somewhere near, I don't know where but," Sherlock turned around again to look for the shop but his eye caught sight of a woman with bright red hair.

A flurry of information flooded his brain. The woman was the same one from the restaurant. Same height, measurements, appearance – she was wearing a miniskirt again – and that look. The look that frustrated him. Besides deducing that she was feeling both determined and a little hopeless just from her walking stride, he took a few seconds to watch her walk away. He wanted her to stop and look around. He needed to see those eyes just for a minute.

John pointed to his left, "that shop, over there."

"How can you tell?" Sherlock regained his concentration.

"Luki's diary. He was here too. He wrote down the address," it was that easy.

Sherlock took another glance to look for the mysterious ginger girl, but she completely disappeared from his view.

After deciphering the Hang Zhou number system at the Lucky Cat emporium, and watching John have a brief meal at the restaurant across from the shop, Sherlock ended up in Soo Lin Yao's apartment seeing that the phonebook outside was still damp from a previous rainfall.

He spoke to himself as he took to observing the apartment, and realized that the attacker was still inside. Not a moment too soon was he attacked.

"JOHN!" Sherlock tried to cry out.

Sherlock could hear John speaking to someone, but he was struggling to breathe and couldn't quite make out the person John was talking to. His assailant wouldn't let go and Sherlock was close to losing consciousness. Taking a moment to catch his breath after his attacker departed, he got up and tried to shake it off.

Sherlock left Soo Lin's apartment and found John waiting by the door. In just a few seconds, he could tell that John definitely met a woman – his pupils were dilated, his heart was beating a bit faster, and there was a slight bump in his pants. The smell of a woman's perfume engulfed his senses. He erased the newly found information from his brain in order to concentrate on the case he had in front of him. Clearing his throat, Sherlock attempted to sound normal in order to keep suspicions away from John.

"The milk's gone bad, the washing's started to smell, somebody left here in a hurry three days ago," Sherlock struggled to regain his normal speaking voice.

"Somebody?"

"Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her."

"How exactly?"

Sherlock bent down to pick up a piece of paper on the floor. He noticed a speck of gold paint that wasn't on the ground before. The paint was similar to the lucky cats sold in the shop next to him. The women who met John must have purchased a cat – probably in need of luck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**AMY**

Amy was having the dream again: the Doctor arising from his TARDIS amidst smoke and lights, him talking about apples, and the crack being fixed. She dreamed about how she desperately wanted to go with him. In the dream, she specifically remembered all of the things she packed into her case. He said five minutes. _Trust me, I'm the Doctor._ But those 5 minutes turned into 12 years. Why did she trust that raggedy man? She woke up in a sweat in the wee hours of the morning. She groaned. Her lucky cat was waving at her.

She looked at her phone: one new text message. Amy rubbed her eyes before looking at the message. _Sorry about coffee, Sarah had an emergency at the clinic – JW._ She groaned again. It had been a few weeks since the Lucky Cat incident. Still, she hadn't got any closer to meeting Mr. Holmes, even when she'd been texting John for a bit. John wouldn't reveal much either.

Amy closed her eyes again and tried to drift back into sleep, but those eyes, the eyes of the madman with a box, was looking straight at her, holding her wrist gently, telling her to believe for just twenty minutes. Was it a dream? Or a nightmare?

Finally, restless from lack of sleep, she got up and changed. She caught Sally coming in the front entrance of their flat in the same clothes she wore yesterday. Was that a man's cologne she could sniff in the air?

Sally Donovan smiled, "what are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Sally looked at her watch, "well I'm going to get ready for work."

"Do you want a cuppa before you head off?" Amy offered.

"Yes, thanks," Sally said as she took off her jacket. "Work has been rubbish, as usual."

"How so?"

"The Freak has been in and out of the station doing God knows what. Lestrade offers him cases but he's so stuck up he won't take 'em."

Amy took a sip of her tea, "this Freak, you said he doesn't exactly work there."

Sally laughed, "He's 'self employed' or whatever. Calls himself a consulting detective. That prat."

"Maybe this consulting detective can find me a job," Amy joked.

"Nah, he'd only work on cases that involved murders or killings," Sally explained as Amy took a longer swig of her tea. "I keep telling Lestrade, one day that Sherlock Holmes is going to be putting those bodies there instead of finding where they came from."

Amy just about choked on her tea.

"Who?" she tried to say as she coughed.

"The Freak Sherlock." Sally said.

Sally thanked Amy for the tea and left to her room. Amy needed to get outside. She needed fresh air. Just those two words put Amy into shock. Wandering around, she somehow made it to Paddington Street Gardens. She wanted to scream. All that time, Sally was talking about a so-called freak, and that freak was the one she desperately wanted to meet. Amy was having conflicting emotions towards the subject. From afar, she found an instant attraction to Sherlock, but what did she know? She'd never met him, and from Sally's opinion of him, did she really want to?

Her rumbling stomach indicated to her that the tea was not enough to satisfy her. The only place that was open was a little cafe called Speedy's. She could do with a sandwich. A manager placed a "we're hiring" sign on the window.

"You're hiring?" Amy asked.

"Absolutely. A waitress quit recently," the manager explained. "Do you have any experience working in a cafe?"

"A bit."

"That's good enough for me. How 'bout you start later this afternoon?"

"Sure! Yeah!" Amy was excited.

London was no longer boring, she had a small adventure, and she was employed. Things were starting to look up for her. Later that afternoon, she went back to Speedy's and received some training.

"There's your first customer," the manager pointed him out.

The man was sitting in the corner silently checking his phone. He was wearing a very expensive looking suit. He also had a pair of retro trainers sitting on the table.

"Good afternoon," Amy said cheerfully.

The man looked up, and immediately, Amy felt chills running down her spine. Everything that could ever be wrong with the world was summed up in this man's eyes.

"Good afternoon," the man looked over at Amy's name tag. "Amy. Can I get a cup of coffee? Black."

"Sure, I'll be right back, sir."

"Please, call me Jim."

**SHERLOCK**

Sherlock was bored. Utterly and completely losing it. He could feel his brain rotting away from the lack of interesting cases. He even tried looking for the ginger girl, but there was no sight of her since Piazza. He replayed his memories of her. She constantly wore miniskirts, maybe she wasn't here to stay, and perhaps she was here on vacation and wasn't prepared for the weather. Yet, he's seen her twice?

Lying on his couch, his fingers grasped a can of spray paint. He stood up and faced the wall. He wasn't much of an artist, so Sherlock started with a circle, thinking he would create a target of some sort. The ginger girl's face popped up in his mind. Without realizing, the circle turned into a smiley face. Though it wasn't the best representation of her, it would do.

He was frustrated that he still couldn't make out what was going on with that woman. Every single centimetre of her had been deduced, reanalyzed, and then stored into his brain. He just needed the slightest conversation to delve deeper, but that goal was far from coming alive. No name, no number, nothing. He groaned. His brain was having its own tug of war challenge. Forget about her and forever wonder, or just keep searching, even if there wasn't much to look for anymore.

Sherlock slipped on his dark blue robe and stared at the street. It was dark and silent, nothing was happening. Where were all the criminals? Why weren't they doing anything? He slumped back down into his chair with a handgun hanging lazily from his hand. The door opened, signalling to him that John was home. Sherlock aimed and shot at the face on the wall.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" John yelled.

"Bored.

"What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock said more enthusiastically.

Besides John having a slight fuss about the head in the fridge, Sherlock wanted to get rid of that woman in his head, but he couldn't. He wanted to know what she was all about. He started getting irritated and took it out on John's blog entries. That stupid solar system. Mrs. Hudson arrived just as John left.

"You two had a little domestic?" she said in her voice that sometimes annoyed Sherlock.

He knew she always had the best intentions, and she did appreciate his work. Sherlock got up from lying on the couch and walked over the table to get to the window. He watched as John walked away.

"Look at that Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful. Isn't it hateful?" He sighed.

"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"Can't come too soon." He wanted something to stop himself from thinking of that mini skirt clad woman, even if it was a murder that would take him five minutes to solve.

"Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall?" Sherlock smirked. "I'm putting this on your rent young man!"

Mrs. Hudson departed. Sherlock turned his back away from the window and looked at the wall. The picture of that woman popped up in his head again. He grinned widely.

Boom.

Sherlock wasn't too physically hurt, but he was excited. An explosion? That was interesting and he was intrigued. Gas leak was probable, but there was always an explanation. His brother, Mycroft, was at his apartment trying to convince Sherlock to take on a case, but being Sherlock, he declined. John received the information instead. After Mycroft left, Lestrade called. 5 pips and a picture of 221c.

Going down to the basement, John, Lestrade, and Sherlock came upon a pair of trainers sitting perfectly in the middle of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**AMY**

An explosion rocked Baker Street, but Amy was back to work at Speedy's Sandwich Bar and Cafe two days later. It would take more than an explosion to keep her from working, like maybe an alien invasion. Though the Doctor would probably take care of that in a jiffy and save the world from destruction.

"Afternoon Amy," the manager said. "I'm surprised you're back, especially after that explosion."

It was a bit slow, seeing as how the gas leak slightly lessened business, and so she was only one of three employees working. Surprisingly, John came in.

"Hey, John!" Amy was excited.

John was equally surprised, "Hello! I didn't know you worked here."

"Just started a few days ago," she laughed. "Can I get you something to eat?"

"Um, yeah. Can I just get a turkey sandwich?" John sat down. "It's my favourite on the menu."

"Absolutely."

Amy walked back to the counter and got a sandwich ready for him. She realized the bread ran out and so she had to go to the back room to grab some more. Finding some, which took her a relatively long time since she was still new, she went back to the counter and saw that John was standing.

"Sorry Amy, gotta run!" John pushed his chair in and left the cafe.

Amy waved goodbye, accidently knocking over the knife on the counter. She bent down and picked it up.

"Ugh, gross," seeing the clump of dirt that stuck on the blade.

_Later that day..._

"John! Came back for your sandwich?" Amy joked when she saw him enter the cafe.

He looked frustrated, and tired, but certainly kept up with her enthused spirits, "absolutely. Mind making me two? I have a friend coming."

A friend? Her heart stopped for a bit.

"Though I hope she becomes more than that. I'm not really great at reading where our relationship is going," John continued.

It was a long shot, but she could only hope that it would be Sherlock.

"Sarah?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"You've been texting me about her, John. Who'd you think I guess?" Amy said as she took the money from John and prepared the sandwiches. "I think you two are more than friends."

The cafe was nearly at its closing time, but the manager put the trust in her to close up when she finished. Amy went to John's table, giving him both plates of food, and pulling up a chair to sit. They were the only ones in the restaurant.

"Anything new then?"

John took a sip of his water, "at the clinic? Same old, same old."

"Ah," she said as stood up.

"Though I have been working on a case," John wanted to keep the conversation going.

"A case? Are you working with the police on the sidelines, John?"

He laughed, "No, with a friend. He's a consulting detective. The only one in the world."

This was the first time John actually mentioned Sherlock's job. This was the _only_ time John really mentioned anything other than working at the clinic. The other times they spoke or texted, he'd just mention that he'd help a friend out with some things, but nothing more. In Amy's eyes, she found out that she didn't know John as well as she thought, aside from what she'd picked up from Sally. Amy put all of her attention now on John – if he wanted to open up, she needed to listen carefully.

"John!" the door opened, revealing a woman who Amy assumed was Sarah.

"Sarah! Hello. This is Amy," Amy shook hands with Sarah.

"Nice to meet you, I hope you enjoy your sandwich," Amy said to Sarah with a smile.

_Bollocks. _Amy thought to herself if only Sarah intruded five minutes later, she'd have an idea of what Sherlock and John were doing. Or at least a friendlier picture of the detective and what he is like around friends. Amy put her chair back at the table and went back to the counter, putting some stuff away and cleaning some dishes. Guess she'd have to wait another time to hear about the case.

About a half hour later, John got a text and immediately left after giving Sarah a quick peck on the cheek and a wave goodbye to Amy.

"Him and that Sherlock. Always got somewhere to be," Sarah sighed. "Thanks for the sandwich."

**SHERLOCK**

Sherlock got a call from Lestrade to go to the station. Lestrade had more information about the Carl Powers case, and Sherlock needed his trusted blogger and friend to accompany him. Replaying the last few hours in his mind, he remembered that John said he'd be going to Speedy's to get something to eat. John was always eating. Then again, Sherlock never seemed to eat.

At Speedy's, he saw John sitting at a table texting.

"John, let's go," Sherlock said at the doorway.

"I'm waiting for my sandwich," John looked at the door to the back room. "Can't it wait? I'm starving."

"Absolutely not. Lestrade called me in," Sherlock didn't see anyone preparing his food.

"Exactly. Lestrade called _you_ in. I can come later," John persisted.

Sherlock was not happy with John's attitude, "I'll get you a sandwich later. Come on!"

Sherlock went outside and walked towards the street with the intent of hailing a cab.

"Sorry Amy, gotta run!" Sherlock heard John say.

John came out and Sherlock got into the cab, "Who's Amy then?"

"Just a friend. She's a new waitress at Speedy's apparently," John explained.

Sherlock turned to look back into the cafe for John's new friend, but didn't see any new faces.

_Later that day..._

"I'm going to Speedy's for the sandwich that you never bought, I'm bringing Sarah. Wanna come?" John offered, lifting his head from his laptop.

"No, I'm heading to the lab. I have to check the blood samples from the car," Sherlock said as he gave John some money. "Here, your sandwiches are on me."

"Thanks," John headed out, leaving Sherlock alone.

Sherlock walked out the door and caught a taxi. Oddly enough, the backseat smelled like the perfume that Sarah was using. She was probably dropped off just as Sherlock left his flat. During the cab ride, Sherlock thought of any connections between Carl Powers and Ian Monkford. Was it too early for a connection?

The sight of long red hair caught his attention.

"Stop the cab!" he told the driver.

The taxi driver pulled over to the side of the road.

"Hold on a minute."

The woman had the same length, style, and hair colour, but he couldn't tell from the layers of clothing what her body measurements were. The lady turned around – it wasn't her.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath.

"Did you want to get off 'ere?" the driver asked.

"No, keep going," Sherlock told him.

At the lab, Sherlock managed to deduce out something incredibly important about the blood sample: it had been frozen. Combined with the phone call from the hostage, he managed to figure out the entire case.

Sherlock left the lab with the conversation between the hostage and himself still fresh in his mind. _Why does anyone do anything?_ _We were made for each other, Sherlock._ Everything seemed to point to this so-called Moriarty. Who was this man? Maybe he was right, they seemed to be made for each other. The detective and the criminal.

Sherlock texted John to meet up with him and Lestrade. There were three hours left, and who knows how long Lestrade and John would take. Every minute counted. Around the abandoned car, Sherlock explained the situation. John was looking at the back bumper for some reason. Lestrade looked directly at Sherlock.

"How much blood was on that seat would you say?" Sherlock asked Lestrade.

"How much? About a pint"

"Not about. Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. Blood's definitely Ian Monkford's, but it's been frozen.

"Frozen?"

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood sometime ago and that's what they spilled on the seat."

Sherlock explained the rest of it to Lestrade and John, who, in turn, surprised Sherlock when he knew what the term Janus meant. Another arrest, another case solved.

"I am on fire!" Sherlock proudly declared.

Now if only he could figure out that woman.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**AMY**

Amy was working the night shift again, but she honestly didn't mind. It was the slow, peaceful nights that she was able to think. Most of the time, she thought about Rory and how he was doing in Leadworth, and of the Doctor. Her memories of him were slowly disappearing, and the dreams of him were being replaced by the man in the blue scarf. She laughed at that: she was dreaming of a man she'd never met. Though, she constantly wondered if the Doctor was waiting for her. Those thoughts would be interrupted when she began making turkey sandwiches – John's favourite.

Coincidentally, John walked in the cafe. He looked both agitated and satisfied.

"Hello, Amy," he called over.

"Want anything to eat?" she was still at the counter, but now unwrapping some turkey slices.

"Nah, just a cuppa," he said as he pulled a chair.

Amy rewrapped the turkey slices and put them away. She brought his cup of tea to him.

"What's wrong?" she could see it in his face and those compassionate eyes.

"Nothing in particular," he tried to lie through his teeth.

Amy rolled her eyes and sat down beside him.

"How's the case going, then?"

"Nearly finished."

Seeing as he wasn't going to spend much time talking to Amy, she returned to her spot at the counter. A few minutes passed by before John gave up and just spilled everything.

"I'm put into such dangerous situations and people can get killed every single day just because of that one man. That stupid man."

"Then why don't you get out of it?" she walked over and sat close to John.

"Get out of it? I love it! I love the danger! That man has made something exciting out of my life again."

Amy was extremely enthused that he was finally talking about Sherlock. John went on to talk about the 5 pips and how there was only one left. She didn't really understand considering he was speaking so fast. John wouldn't realize it then, but she was so entranced by his stories. She loved the adventures that John was telling her. This is why she came to London, even if it wasn't her own adventure. She picked up bits and pieces of info on Sherlock too, so his story wasn't told in vain. Amy wouldn't know it, but John was relieved he was able to tell his stories without freaking her out. They weren't particularly close, and stories of a man who got off on murders might just break a friendship like the one they had. He told the exact same thing to Sarah, and she would tense up.

John realized he went a bit too far with his outburst, "sorry 'bout that. It's been a long day. A long week, really. I'm actually supposed to see Sarah right now."

Amy touched his arm, she honestly wanted to hug him for being so outward, "Alright. I gotta close up shop anyways."

Amy headed for the back room to grab her coat. All she could do was smile. Sherlock: the consulting detective. Sherlock: the one who solves the most ingenious of cases that no one else could solve. Sherlock: the man she found absolutely crazy and wild, and all of the things she was looking for in London. _Thank you, John! _ Good on John for having a crazy week. Without it, she may not have been able to learn about what was happening. She could hear that the door opened, and another voice rang through within the walls of the cafe.

"Oh, hello," John said. "Jim, right?"

**SHERLOCK**

"No, no, no! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn ups on his genes!" Sherlock yelled at the TV.

"I knew it was dangerous," John started. "Getting you into crap telly. You've given Mycroft the memory stick yet?"

"Yep, he was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood. Again," Sherlock said.

"You know I'm still waiting for you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system, and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker," John was still going on about that.

"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock teased.

"Yeah, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective."

"True."

"I won't be in for tea. I'm heading to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto in the fridge. Milk, we need milk."

"I'll get some," Sherlock offered, making John surprised at the notion.

"Really?"

"Really."

"And some beans, then?"

"Mm," Sherlock agreed.

Sherlock was deliberately making the night boring and peaceful so that John would leave or turn in early. He made a copy of the missile plans and wanted to meet this Moriarty. But for John's sake and safety, Sherlock wanted to go in alone. He would be facing something that he'd never experience before and he had to make sure that his friend was safe. If Sherlock were to die, he wouldn't want to drag poor John into it. Sherlock has cheated death enough, so maybe it was time.

Just as John left, Sherlock got his laptop out. _Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Pease collect. _He smirked. He wanted to make this a little more fun. _The Pool. Midnight._ After pressing enter, he sat in his chair for a moment, relishing in the thought that he'd finally meet his maker.

The pool was where Carl Powers died. This is where Sherlock got his start. This is where Moriarty, as a child, killed a boy who laughed at him. Sherlock was on his toes, he had to be ready.

"I brought you a little getting to know you present. All your little puzzles making me dance. All to distract me from this!" He waved the USB stick in the air while he faced the door that he entered from.

The door closed and John entered, "Evening. This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock?"

"John, what the hell?" Sherlock's heart stopped. No. John wasn't a criminal mastermind. He couldn't be.

"Bet you never saw this coming," John stood there with his hands in his parka. Something was terribly wrong with the picture.

John opened up his parka to show the bomb that was strapped to his chest. In a way, it made Sherlock breathe a sigh of relief knowing that his friend didn't orchestrate such ingenious murders and scams. But it was still John, strapped to something that could blow up the moment the sniper pulls the trigger. Sherlock would hate that little red dot. He began walking close to John. His mind was in overdrive. John, on the other hand, was in a semi-calm state. Though that was expected from a man who faced war. He was use to the stress, but John was shaky. He was never a hostage.

"Nice touch, this, the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart," John stopped when Sherlock interrupted.

A door opened on the other side of the pool, "I gave you my number. I thought you might call."

It was a tense standoff. Sherlock had his gun pointed directly at Jim. But he never phased.

"Consulting criminal, brilliant," Sherlock said.

"Isn't it?"

This psychopath of a man, no, _monster_, in Sherlock's mind, was getting too close for comfort. He offered the missile plan, but like Sherlock, Moriarty found it boring. John lunged at Jim. Sherlock was terribly confused. Even the sniper, who was wavering between shooting Jim or Moriarty, wasn't sure what would happen if he took the shot. Eventually Jim left. Sherlock ripped the bomb off of John, smelling a perfume that was familiar, but he ignored it when he saw a few more red dots on his and John's chests.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**AMY**

One day, and she didn't know how she did it, Amy came upon the blog of Dr. John Watson. She spent nearly hours reading and rereading his adventures. She never meant to spend so much time, but it was only because John never invited her to meet Sherlock or to even visit their flat to talk about their cases. Amy was in no way internet-savvy as she depended on texts more than anything, so it took her a little while even finding Sherlock's site. Seeing as how the day she found his site she was late for work, she made a mental note to remember to actually read what was posted.

She'd eventually forget to do this when work picked up suddenly. All her time was left to picking up shifts at Speedy's and none at borrowing Sally's laptop to check up on John or Sherlock's sites. Nearly every day, all sorts of people would arrive in Speedy's. One day, there'd be a man holding an urn, a group of dorky teenagers with a pile of comics, two little girls – who knew who'd show up. It was odd but she didn't think much of it. London was a place full of ... different people.

One day at work, she caught a glimpse of a man, covered only in a sheet, entering a car. Even though his head was covered, she may have seen a little cheek when he almost tripped getting in.

Months passed and Amy was really enjoying herself in London, and she almost completely forgotten about the Doctor. There'd been no sightings of Sherlock, though she'd occasionally think of him and what could have happened if they ever met. She dreamt of the scenario over a hundred times. Every time she dreamt of him, she would giggle to herself. She was smitten over a man she'd only seen from afar. Her attraction to him was undeniable, but she bet he didn't even remember her from the restaurant. It was those eyes that she'd come to know so well in her mind.

It was just about Christmas time. Amy didn't have any plans, and Sally was away, so she'd be all alone in her flat. When her boss asked her if she could take the last shift on Christmas – with double pay – she accepted. John entered the restaurant just after she accepted her boss' request. He headed straight for her.

"Hello Amy, I've just come to invite you to a little Christmas party that I'm having. It's tomorrow evening," he smiled. "A couple of friends will be there."

Sherlock.

Damn.

She smiled to cover up her heart sinking. Could she ask to get the evening off? She didn't expect a whole lot of people to be there that evening anyways.

"I'm working tomorrow, but if I can get the night off, I'll try and make it," Amy said.

"Great!" John said, turning around to head for the door.

"Wait! John, what's the address?" Amy asked loudly.

John turned around, "221b Baker Street. Just upstairs."

Her stomach flopped. What. Did she hear correctly?

"Bye!" John waved before leaving the restaurant completely.

She waved back with a stupid smirk on her face. She'd been working almost directly under John and Sherlock's flat. She couldn't believe this. No wonder John would come in so much.

_The next day…_

"Merry Christmas!" Amy said to the last of her patrons.

It was just about closing time. She was exhausted and totally not prepared to go to the party. She didn't even have time to buy gifts either. With a sad smile on her face, she got ready to go home. Before leaving, she made a phone call to Rory.

"Hello?" Rory picked up.

"Hey Rory!" Amy said cheerfully.

"Amy!" Rory was equally excited. "God, I've missed hearing your voice."

She felt a pang of guilt – she'd meant to call a few times when she was in London. Except, he never made the effort to call her either.

"How are you?" Rory asked.

"Great! London is wonderful. How's everything there? Is my Aunt fine? What about Mels?"

Rory laughed, "Everything is fine up here. Cold, but fine."

"Of course it's cold, ya' moron."

Everything was silent on Rory's end.

"Rory? Are you there?"

"Y-yeah. It's just that I've missed you calling me moron," silence. "When are you coming home?"

"I don't know yet."

"Alright then," Amy heard a door closing in the background. "Hey, I gotta go."

"Okay," Amy sounded a bit sad. "Merry Christmas, Rory."

"Merry Christmas to you too, Amy," and with that, he hung up.

All alone in the café, she put on a brave face and walked out the door. She stood a few inches outside the door for a moment, relishing the cool air, the snow falling lightly on the ground and on her hair, and the sound of Christmas carols coming from the various flats around her. It wasn't too cold outside, and her thick tights and mini were enough to keep her warm. She considered walking since it was actually quite beautiful. She was the only one outside, but she didn't mind. Passing 221 Baker Street, she wondered how the party was going, but stopped thinking of the good time she could have been having.

She took a few steps, looking down and smiling at the sounds of the blanket of snow crunching underneath her brown, leather boots. Amy looked up to make sure she was heading in the right direction. She stopped dead in her tracks when she came upon a man in a black wool coat. Even from a few feet away, she could see that Sherlock was looking directly into her eyes.

Amy Pond's mind was racing.

**SHERLOCK**

Irene Adler was on his mind and he was happy. It was better than that ginger woman that he never could accidently catch a glimpse at in the most random places. Did she die or something? He accessed his memory to find the picture of her smiling at him from the restaurant. At least he could think of her when he was bored. It was a game to him. A game of hide and seek, only she was the one hiding, and he didn't make the biggest effort to look for her.

He hadn't heard from Irene very much after she drugged him. A few texts here and there. Cases were getting fewer and fewer. Moriarty was silent. Mrs. Hudson was, well, Mrs. Hudson. And John? Well he kept bugging him about Irene and his feelings for her. Ugh. Sherlock had an attraction to her, of course, but he couldn't tell if it was intellectual or romantic. Irene was as observant and keen as he was. They would be perfect together, but it would only work if she wasn't so devious, and if she gave up her job as a dominatrix.

Being Sherlock, he must have seemed depressed over everything. Lack of jobs, Irene, or the ginger? John would only know of Irene and that's what he would assume was making Sherlock irritated and sad. Maybe the ginger girl should be called the Woman. It was way more fitting since he didn't have a name for her. Boredom wasn't good for Sherlock. The only good thing coming out from not doing anything was that he wasn't dead, but he felt as if he may as well be.

Back in the present, John was preparing a Christmas party.

"Anyone you want to invite?" John asked as he was blogging.

Sherlock was watching TV, sitting in his usual spot with his knees curled up to his chest, "hm?"

"Are you sure you don't want to invite anyone for tomorrow?" John repeated the question.

"No. Whoever you invite should be fine," Sherlock said, not taking his eyes off of the television. "Who did you invite anyways?"

"Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, Janette …" John paused. "And Amy."

Amy. That name sounded familiar. Right, the girl who John is friends with and works in Speedy's. Sherlock couldn't put a face to her, probably because they never met.

"Though she might not come. Working on Christmas. That's rubbish."

"Right," Sherlock broke his focus on John and continued watching his show.

Nothing new.

_The next day…_

Sherlock was playing his violin for John, Janette, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. John was wearing a ridiculous Christmas sweater. Mrs. Hudson was always impressed with Sherlock's violin skills. Lestrade looked on in approval. Molly arrived. Sherlock gave a face.

"Oh, dear lord," Sherlock muttered to himself.

"Hello everyone," Molly said while taking off her coat.

Everyone, besides Sherlock, was surprised at how well Molly was dressed. Sherlock even caught Lestrade checking her out, his mouth slightly hanging open. Sherlock got onto the laptop.

"So you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him," Sherlock turned away from the screen after momentary chatter between everyone.

"Sorry, what?"

"And you're seeing him this very night, and you're giving him a gift!"

"Take a day off," John scolded.

"Come on, surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. Must be someone special there. The shade of red echoes the lipstick, either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Ms. Hooper has love on her mind…" Sherlock kept rambling on until he realized his mistake – the present was meant for him.

"You always say such horrible things," Molly was humiliated. "Every time. Always, always."

"I am sorry. Forgive me," Sherlock saw from his peripheral that John did a double take.

Sherlock gave a peck on Molly's cheek, "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

The sound of a woman moaning came from his cell phone. _Mantelpiece. _It was Irene Adler's phone. She was dead. Sherlock excused himself to his room and phoned Mycroft informing him that they'd find the body of Irene. He told Mycroft to meet him at St. Bart's so that they could confirm the body was hers. Without waiting for a response, he put his blue scarf and his black wool coat on and left the flat.

Outside, it was snowing. Small flakes of frozen water were falling on the ground. Peaceful was the first word that popped into his head. Boring was the second. He should have called for a cab since it was Christmas time. He walked to the end of the road on his right to see if there were any taxis on the main road, but there was no one on the street.

Turning back, he saw the stark contrast of fiery red hair against the white blanket of snow and the glow from the streetlamps. Once he saw that she was wearing a mini, he knew it was her.

She was smiling to herself as she walked.

_Come on, look up._

As if she was listening, she looked up and froze in her place. Amy was looking into his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, Sherlock Holmes stopped thinking.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Amy&Sherlock**

For what seemed like an eternity for them, they both stood still in their spots while the snow drifted peacefully towards the ground. Amy and Sherlock were both hesitant, and so none of them took any steps. Amy was so entranced by his scarf blowing in the wind and the snow gently settling on his dark coat that her mouth was opened ever so slightly. Sherlock was just staring at the girl who didn't make sense. Out of nowhere, a taxi began driving towards Amy.

She hadn't meant to, but she hailed the cab. Her legs were walking towards the door, even though she didn't want that to happen. This managed to bring Sherlock out of a momentary shock. Amy opened the door.

"Wait!" Sherlock yelled as he jogged towards her.

He literally could not put any words together as his mind turned to mush. He stopped thinking the moment he caught sight of her, and this was frustrating him because this was impossible. This was the great Sherlock Holmes – the man who thinks on his feet, who observes anything and everything, and commits to the idea that any romantic notions or connections slow a person down. _What do I say?_

Amy stopped, placing her hand on the door frame. She was questioning why she was leaving. Why was she missing the encounter that she'd been praying to happen? She wasn't like that. Even when the Doctor came to her all those years ago, she wanted to fly off with him into time and space. Sherlock Holmes was not an alien, but she was so utterly scared. She did not expect this to happen. _What do I say?_

Amy turned around, and that caught Sherlock by surprise. Finally seeing her up close, he was noticing her green eyes. Something told him that she was as equally shocked to see him. A happy shock? But he still couldn't get his brain to work properly. _Come on, say something._

"Do you mind if I share that?" Sherlock managed to spit out some words.

"Sure," she responded a little too enthusiastically.

She slid into the back seat and he got in next to her. Amy gave the address of her flat to the taxi driver. The address stood out in Sherlock's mind, but being that he was still incapable of remembering anything, he just texted it to himself.

Amy, on the other hand, was silently freaking out. She never realized the moment she would meet Sherlock, it would be incredibly awkward. She was the type to start the conversation, but how would she have started it? _Hi, you're Sherlock Holmes. I'm friends with your flat mate, and I work in the cafe below you. _

Amy took out her phone and looked for any new text messages or phone calls. The taxi driver slammed hard on the breaks, making both Amy and Sherlock brace for the impact. She dropped her phone, but Sherlock picked it up and gave it back to her. That one second touch sparked something in both of them.

"Bloody hell!" the taxi driver yelled.

The sudden jolt made Sherlock regain his focus and Amy with her confidence.

"You're Sherlock Holmes, right?" She asked confidently, not giving a damn what he thought.

"Yes, I am. Who are you?" he asked in return.

"Amy Pond."

Sherlock's eyes went wide. Was this the same Amy who was friends with John and worked in Speedy's?

As if Amy could read his mind, she responded, "I don't know if you know me or not. I'm friends with John."

Sherlock shook his head, "yeah, I've heard of you."

Oh, he knew more than what he just heard of her from John. With that, he finally made more minute observations and deductions to add to his mind. Amy Pond noticed him since the night in Angelo's restaurant and she had him in her mind for a while. She'd researched and learned about him, either through his website, through her flatmate Sally, or even John. She was prepared. What surprised him was that she was literally giddy to meet him. In a way, that relieved him, because he felt exactly the same. He was about to spill his observations when she spoke.

"You're the consulting detective. You make observations, or whatever."

It was as if she were psychic. Or their minds were equally tuned to each other.

"Yes."

Sherlock was trying to focus, but she wanted to talk. Amy needed to see what her attraction was to him before the taxi driver got to her flat.

"Then, go ahead."

"I'm sorry?"

"Tell me what you know."

This definitely caught Sherlock by surprise. No one typically asked for his observations so directly.

"You are obviously as surprised to see me, possibly because of something that happened between the time between Angelo's restaurant and now. You've had me on your mind for quite some time, as I can tell from your dilated pupils, and the increased heart rate. Your name is not Amy, but Amelia, going from that text that your Aunt Sharon sent to you. Your boyfriend, Rory, obviously likes you, but it doesn't seem as if you reciprocated those feelings since your last text was three months ago. Now that phone, old model, but you like the fact that it slides open. I'm not sure why, but you do, going by the fact that there are many slide marks."

In her mind, she knew why: it reminded her of the Doctor's screwdriver, but Sherlock didn't know about him.

Sherlock continued, "Now, I know you portray this outwardly brave persona since you let me share a taxi with you, but your eyes and your current posture show vulnerability. Seems like it's been there a while. Your accent, it's Scottish, but a bit distorted. Which means you've lived in Leadworth for a long time."

Sherlock kept on rambling on, but Amy stopped listening. She herself was trying to deduce what it was about him that she found so intriguing. She found him familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Did I miss anything?" Sherlock asked, breaking her focus.

"No," Amy responded, looking directly into his eyes. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" that was another thing he'd never gotten before.

"Yes, that was quite an interesting thing you did there. I don't think that will ever happen again."

"Alright, you're welcome," Sherlock faced the front.

Even though he completely stripped her down to the core, there was still something missing. Something was still so utterly wrong that he wanted to shake her violently and ask her what was it about her that she was hiding so well that he couldn't see. In Amy's mind, she wanted to have that skill in order to connect the dots between her and Sherlock.

"My turn," Amy said.

"What?"

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are an interesting man. You're use to people doing specific things when you deduce stuff. It's not hard to see that my responses are confusing you. People don't usually ask for deductions, they don't even say thank you. And you've also had me on your mind going by _your_ dilated pupils, and _your _increased heart rate. But why me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why the interest in me? I am nobody."

"I could ask you the same question."

"You bloody well know why."

"No, I mean. From the restaurant. You didn't know me then. You didn't even know my name."

"I asked you first, Sherlock," Amy was adamant he should speak.

"You know I can deduce things about people to the utmost specific detail of their lives, though there is always something I miss. Anyways, you..."

"Alright, we're here," the taxi driver said, interrupting Sherlock.

She silently sighed, and Sherlock caught it – it was a sad sigh. She wanted to stay with him, and Sherlock knew because he felt the same. Amy took out her wallet, but Sherlock lightly grabbed her wrist.

"I'll take care of it," Sherlock looked into her eyes.

The spark between them was evident, but he let go as soon as he saw Amy was blushing, hard. Her first real physical contact with him had to be the wrists. Why did it ring out so many alarm bells in her mind? Why the hell couldn't she place his familiarity?

"Thanks," Amy smiled.

Oh, that smile.

Sherlock got out of the car to walk Amy to her door. He rarely showed this much gentlemanly politeness, but he felt that she was worth it.

Amy abruptly turned around. Their bodies were just inches apart and their eyes were almost at the exact height. Amy's perfume was intoxicating to Sherlock that it just put him under a trance. So much so that he gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Amy."

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**AMY**

Closing her door slowly, she placed her back towards it and slumped to the floor. Her heart was racing, and her legs were mush, but she couldn't stop smiling. She finally met Sherlock Holmes. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. She still couldn't believe that she almost got in a cab and drove away from him. She was so grateful he asked her to wait and share a cab. Amy wanted to scream, she wanted to yell out to the world that she met the coolest man ever. What a Christmas.

Replaying the moment over and over in her mind, she grew even more giddy. It was true, she was smitten with him. A small crush, but nothing more. She saw how his mind worked, but that still didn't satisfy her. Amy wanted to see him apply it to crime scenes, to murders, and anything else exciting.

Seeing Sally's laptop on the counter, she nearly tripped running to it. Quickly, she typed up Sherlock's site and read and reread everything. Sure, it was fascinating, but it was so not what she was expecting.

"You do the weirdest experiments," she said out loud.

After, she revisited John's blog and noticed how much she missed. She spent the whole night reading, and fell asleep on the couch. She woke up to see that it was late afternoon the next day, and she missed her shift, but it didn't matter. Amy Pond was finally happy. And not once did she think of the Doctor.

_The next morning..._

Amy had a new text. It was from John asking if she'd join him for tea in their flat. Of course, she jumped with excitement at the idea and accepted the invitation. She even hurried to get ready for work that morning – she'd never been that excited to go to work. As she opened the door, the memory of that night replayed in her mind. Opening her eyes, she realized she spent twenty minutes standing in one spot thinking of Sherlock, and raced out of the door with the hopes she wouldn't be late to work.

"Good morning, Amy," the manager said to her as she was scanning the room for either John or Sherlock.

To her disappointment, they weren't there, but she assumed that they were out solving a case, or even preparing for later. Amy got to work, trying to push the two out of her mind, but it was difficult. Every time she saw a tall man with curly hair wearing a black coat – which was way too often – she'd hold in her breath and had to force herself to remember how to breathe. Getting through the five hour shift wasn't as grueling as she thought it would be, and she found herself smoothing down her hair in front of the door of 221b Baker Street.

She knocked on the door a few times, and John opened the door.

"Uh, Amy! What a surprise!"

"What?" Amy's head was tilted in confusion, her eyes narrowed to try and understand what John meant. "What do you mean a surprise? You invited me over."

"I did?" John was equally confused.

In less than a moment, Sherlock emerged from behind the shadows and appeared beside John.

"Hello, Amy. Please, come in."

Sherlock and John walked up the stairs together as Amy gingerly followed.

"Since when do you know Amy?" John said a little too loudly.

"Don't worry about it John," Sherlock replied in a hushed tone.

Finally, they reached the flat and Sherlock opened the door. There was tea set on the table and the Christmas tree was lit up. The room looked festive, and Amy found that too sentimental for Sherlock, so it must have been John's idea.

"Please, sit," Sherlock told Amy.

"Thanks," Amy said as Sherlock went to the kitchen and spoke with John.

Amy began drumming her fingers on the arm rests of the chair. She got her tea and started sipping on it in order to prevent herself from falling asleep. The whole ambiance of the place made her feel at home, and the warmth of the fireplace made her cozy.

Sherlock sat down in front of her and sort of stared at her. Amy obviously knew that he was trying to deduce something about her, but she didn't dare ask when he looked so utterly concentrated that he didn't blink. She basically held her tea to her pursed lips, looking straight into his eyes, until he made moved or shifted in his seat. All the while, John was leaning at the entrance to the kitchen.

"So, Amy, how's work?"

"Great, how's working with Sherlock?" Amy teased to lighten the mood.

"I'm never bored. That I can say," John replied with a laugh.

Amy finished her tea and set it down. For some reason, and it was probably because she spent a cab ride with him, she didn't feel uncomfortable with Sherlock's eyes on her. Sherlock was still staring, in a weirder way now, but she decided to get up and "explore" the room. Her eyes caught the skull with a Santa cap on and she giggled – that was definitely something that belonged to Sherlock that had John's touch to it.

"How was your Christmas?" Amy asked John.

"Wonderful. The party was great. It was too bad you couldn't make it."

She made her way to the right of the mantle and noticed small presents and knick knacks. Amy could still feel Sherlock's eyes on her, even as he got up from his spot and moved to the far end of the mantle to her right.

Finally, their shoulders touched and Sherlock pointed upwards. Amy looked up and noticed a green shrub with small, yellow flowers, and white berries hanging from a red ribbon. Looking back down at Sherlock, she found that his lips were pressed against hers.

**SHERLOCK**

He was still in the cab, just inhaling the scent of her perfume. It was calming. Maybe even enough to suppress his nicotine craving. He took a little while to remember where he was going because he could not get Amy Pond out of his mind. Amy. Pond. Finally a name.

But he was still going mad over the one stupid bloody thing that he cannot read. For the life of him, he could not deduce it. She was right there, just a few inches away from him, and he couldn't process anything! He moved on to the next thing that was bothering him. Did he have romantic feelings for her? She made him feel different, but was it just the game that made him feel that way? The prize was finding that missing piece, so what would happen after he won? _Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side_. But what was that fluttering he felt in his stomach? Even after she'd left, it was still there.

He arrived later that evening to look at the body of Irene Adler. Just a glimpse was enough to see that it wasn't her, but he was going to tell Mycroft it was. Just a game. Irene was alive. Sherlock took a moment to himself to realize that he had his mind on two ladies. Unusual, even for Sherlock to have just _one_ woman on his mind, and they aren't even dead!

The very next morning, he beat John to Speedy's. With a turkey sandwich in John's mouth and Sherlock on his phone, people began to trickle in. But where was Amy? It was probably a better idea to check with the owner, but even he wasn't in today. Sherlock's mind wrapped around the idea that he scared her off. He even knew that it wasn't true, but the idea stood tall in his mind.

John finished his sandwich, but it took a while for Sherlock to realize this, "are we going or not?"

"Uh, yeah," Sherlock got up, feeling a bit defeated.

Thinking about Irene again, Sherlock had a thought, and sneakily got John's cell as they were getting into a taxi. Irene was playing a game with his heart, and she almost succeeded, but she couldn't hide. When Sherlock was alone, he looked through John's contacts and found Amy's number. He texted her under the premise of John if she'd like to come over to their flat for tea. In nineteen hours and forty three minutes, she responded with a yes. Sherlock smirked to himself.

_The next day ..._

Sherlock prepared the apartment while John was out running errands. Going with his plan, he placed anything that would interest Amy on the mantle. Random presents, the skull, any other knick knacks he could find around the flat. Finally, he pulled up his chair and stood on it. He hung some mistletoe from the ceiling right where the middle of the mantle would be. If he was going to have an excuse to kiss her, he may as well make it festive.

John woke up and saw Sherlock walking about the flat. The only thing that surprised him was that Sherlock was decorating, rather than fiddling with his violin or periodically checking his or John's site for any cases.

"What the hell are you doing?" John asked while he rubbed his eyes. He apparently couldn't believe his own eyes.

"We have a guest coming over, John," Sherlock said.

"What time?"

"Couple of hours. Have you got the milk?"

John rolled his eyes, "Of course."

John walked to the fridge and placed it in a spot where he knew wouldn't be contaminated by any of Sherlock's experiments.

"So it's not Molly, Lestrade, or Mrs. Hudson. And it certainly isn't for Mycroft. Who's coming over? You never told me we had a case," John tried to wiggle out some information.

"We don't have a case. And you know her," Sherlock fluffed a pillow.

The fact that Sherlock fluffed a pillow rang some alarm bells in John's mind.

"You have a girl coming over, then? And you like her!" John teased, much to Sherlock's annoyance.

"Please, John," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "it's an experiment."

"Whatever you say, Sherlock," John crossed his arms and gave a cheeky smile to Sherlock.

A couple hours later, there was a knock on the door. John went down the stairs to open it. He found Amy Pond outside the door.

"Uh, Amy! What a surprise!" John was legitimately surprised.

"What? What do you mean a surprise? You invited me over," she responded in a tone that was also surprised.

"I did?" John's eyebrows were furrowed.

Sherlock was just behind John, but Amy couldn't see him as he was standing in the darkness of the hall. He could cross out confusion. That wasn't what she was hiding, but at least the experiment was getting to a good start. _Rule out sentiment, Sherlock. You do not have any empathetic or romantic feelings for her. This is an experiment._ Sherlock needed to remind himself that this was a game, even if his stomach was fluttering at her sight.

"Hello, Amy. Please, come in," Sherlock appeared.

Sherlock and John walked up the stairs together as Amy followed from behind.

"Since when do you know Amy?" John said. "I've never introduced you to her."

"Don't worry about it John," Sherlock replied.

Reaching the flat, Sherlock told Amy to sit down. Clearly, John wanted to speak to him.

"What's the matter, John? Can't you see we have a guest?" Sherlock tried to annoy John.

It was obvious that John couldn't understand that this was an experiment to find the missing link. Of course, John had to think that Sherlock had romantic intentions. It took a bit of convincing to get John to not reveal anything to Amy, but to encourage small talk. John wouldn't know what Sherlock was really thinking, but he was told to just watch and not interfere. Being loyal, he conceded, but only if Sherlock promised that he wouldn't scare off Amy.

The next step was to make Amy feel as uncomfortable or awkward as possible. Seeing as John had no problem with just leaning on the wall, Sherlock took to his spot and stared at Amy. He could tell she was somewhat uncomfortable because she was staring back, just waiting for something to happen, but her shoulders were relaxed, she had a slight smirk in the corners of her lips, and she was playfully teasing him with a purse of her lips. Butterflies. He stared longer, but realized that being awkward was not what she was hiding either.

Amy got up out of John's seat once she noticed that she finished her cup of tea and needed something to occupy her time. John engaged in small talk, but Sherlock had no care for that. She walked to the mantle and fiddled with the items. It was all going to plan as she started on the far left. Sherlock didn't take his eyes off of her as she began slowly moving to the middle. Finally, their bodies were too close to move anywhere else. Sherlock could see in her eyes that she was infatuated with him, but it would only take one kiss to decide if he could finally get rid of the frustration within his mind that bothered him the day he first glanced at her. Sherlock pointed upwards to get Amy's attention on the mistletoe. She looked down at him and looked into his eyes long enough for him to see the excitement, nervousness, and utter relief that she felt. Their lips met. It was soft, but he needed the passion to get something out of her after their lips separated.

_Just an experiment. Don't you fall in love with this girl._

What was that he was feeling though? His heart was leaping out of his chest, his stomach was flopping, and he felt like he couldn't support his legs. The kiss only happened for less than 10 seconds, but he just couldn't think anymore.

_Damn it. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**AMY**

"Damn," Sherlock uttered under his breath.

Amy had no idea what he meant with that. Was that a good or bad thing? She stood there as her porcelain skin began to redden. She caught John looking at Sherlock and then Amy a few times. His mouth was hanging open in utter shock. Amy got the feeling that John had never seen Sherlock kiss a girl before. She realized that she had her hands held out in front of her. Did she grab his hair or neck to pull him closer? Or was she just so utterly confused as to what happened? Either way, she quickly pushed her arms down to her side and abruptly sat back down in John's chair.

_What just happened?_

John let out a cough, "well, that was, um, that, um, Sherlock? May I speak to y-you in the, um, k-kitchen?"

Amy giggled to herself. Was it hotter in the room, or was it just Amy?

Amy could hear John mumbling to Sherlock about the kiss, but she couldn't make out any words said by Sherlock. Amy got up from her spot again, and made her way slowly past the smiley face in the wall and down the hallway. She stopped to examine the graffitied wallpaper. Were those bullet holes in the face? She was about to ask Sherlock what he was doing with a gun, spray paint, and the wall when she saw him hunched over talking to John. Their conversation looked so serious that she decided to continue on with her self guided tour. A bedroom door was opened, and she noticed a poster of the periodic table hanging. _Sherlock's room._

"You like her, don't you?" Amy managed to make out what John was saying.

"Sherlock," John was pestering him for an answer. "Sherlock."

She gave a sly smile. All of a sudden, Amy heard Sherlock shouting.

"IT WAS AN EXPERIMENT. THAT KISS DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING. SHE DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!" Sherlock yelled so loud it could have wakened the dead.

Amy's heart dropped to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. She was just an experiment to him? She hesitantly walked a few steps out the door to the kitchen, but changed the direction of her footing. It took her a moment of sadness to reach a spot of pure fury. Amy grabbed her coat as fast as she could from the main living room, gave one last smouldering look to Sherlock, and slammed the door on her way out.

Tears began streaming down her face as she raced down the stairs of 221b Baker Street. She looked left and right to try and catch a cab, but since none of them were free, she was forced to walk home.

**SHERLOCK**

"Damn," Sherlock uttered under his breath.

Even with that kiss, he still couldn't find that missing link. Clearly, it wasn't something romantic that she was hiding. At least he could cancel that out and start looking for something different. _Experiment, experiment, experiment. Oh my God, that perfume. SHERLOCK! Experiment! _His mind was fighting between figuring out the puzzle and pulling her in for another kiss. _Stay focused Sherlock._ He never had to motivate himself so much, nor did he have to restrain himself either. He needed to figure it out. Pulling back from temptation, he walked away from a reddening Amy and towards his violin. He wasn't going to play it, but Sherlock was just waiting for John to speak.

Amy sat down in John's chair again with her hand lightly touching her lips. Sherlock could see from the reflection in the window what she was doing. He had to smirk.

John let out a cough, "well, that was, um, that, um, Sherlock? May I speak to y-you in the, um, k-kitchen?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes before following John.

John spoke first, "W-what was all that about, then?"

"You've kissed a woman before, John. You have an idea what that was," Sherlock was deliberately speaking in a very quiet voice.

Sherlock peeked over at Amy – she was getting up and moving around in the room – he crossed his arms to make the conversation look more serious.

"Sherlock. I've never seen you kiss someone. Ever. And I've never seen you invite a girl over either. What are you doing?"

"I've invited Mrs. Hudson."

"What?"

"She's female. I've invited her over."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock was only stalling, of course, because he was waiting for her to get to some other part of the house. He knew she was going to try and listen into the conversation, but he wanted the right moment to make her angry. That was next on the list.

"You like her, don't you?"

"Sherlock," John was getting a little annoying, but the plan was working for Sherlock. "Sherlock!"

He cleared his throat and shook out his body as a warm up precaution, "IT WAS AN EXPERIMENT. THAT KISS DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING. SHE DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING TO ME!"

From Sherlock's room, he was able to make out a small gasp and some hesitant footsteps. Clearly, his plan was working and Amy heard that. Amy angrily walked back to the living room to get her coat and gave a seething look to Sherlock before turning around and walking out of their flat and down the stairs.

Sherlock's eyes widened, "Seriously? Not even anger? It must be sadness."

"What the hell was that?" John was baffled.

"I told you. Experiment," Sherlock heard the front door closed and he immediately raced across the room towards the windows.

"Guess I won't be hearing from her for a while," John said to himself.

Sherlock peeked through to see Amy crying. She was sad. Good. No. Not good. That's not it either.

"ARGH! JOHN!" Sherlock was yelling and throwing loose papers off his table.

Books were flying in all directions and papers were being crumpled underneath Sherlock's feet. All the while, John was observing Sherlock and having a chuckle. John had never seen Sherlock so rattled over a girl.

"You like her," John said. "I'm not even going to question it anymore. Though I really don't understand what part of yelling at her is the experiment."

Sherlock lazily laid on the couch with the pillow on his face. It took a few minutes for him to gather himself. He threw the pillow at John.

"It's not sadness, anger, being uncomfortable, confusion, or love. And it's not even happiness. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HER?" Sherlock was yelling again. "I NEED A CIGARETTE! NO! WHERE ARE MY PATCHES? JOHN, GIVE ME MY CIGARETTES."

"Still lost here, Sherlock," John was sitting in his chair now and not planning on getting Sherlock his smokes.

Sherlock suddenly sat up, forgetting all about his nicotine craving. His posture was rigid which, for John, meant that he was going to talk fast and explain everything.

"I saw Amy in Angelo's restaurant the night we were looking for the cabbie. I deduced everything about her except for one. I don't know if you've noticed, even though it's quite obvious, but there's this missing link about her that I can't seem to figure out and it's driving me mad. She has this bloody look that she's hiding behind those green eyes. Why the hell she can't or won't show it is irrelevant. It's the fact that I can't figure it out..." Sherlock took a moment to breathe. "I met her the night of the Christmas party and although we spent enough time for me to find out more things about her life, I still couldn't find that one thing. I made an experiment to which I'd go through the most basic human emotions to find out what it was, but nothing. NOTHING. There is something seriously wrong with that girl."

"Oh, Sherlock, you've fallen in love with her," was the only thing John could say.

"I've fallen in love with the game, John," he said sardonically.

Sherlock had his knees up to his chest, and he was subtly rocking back and forth. John got up from his chair with a smile on his face.

"What?" Sherlock noticed the look. "You've noticed something."

"I've figured it out."

"What?" He doubted John.

"You're not in love with the game, Sherlock. I know that's not true."

"What have you figured out?"

"I think I know the headline for my next blog entry."

"John."

"The Consulting Detective Falls in Love with the Girl Who Doesn't Make Sense."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**AMY**

Amy was ready to take a week off of work. She couldn't bear to think that she'd run into Sherlock Holmes again. To think that she thought he liked her. She was completely humiliated and could not face him at all without feeling embarrassed. The horrible thing was that she was still smitten with him. That moron.

Amy couldn't find that underlying attraction to him, though. Surely, she adored his odd appearance and outward personality, but there was something beneath it all that she couldn't piece together. Maybe it was the way he acted, but it was like there a brick wall in her mind keeping her from figuring it out.

Sally caught her sulking around in the apartment with a bottle of wine and asked what was wrong. To avoid sounding like a stalker, Amy took out a lot of parts to the story she told Sally.

"I met Sherlock," Amy said, looking up embarrassingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Amy," Sally gave her a side hug. "Now you know why I'm going on about him being a freak, then?"

"Yes, now I get it."

She was experiencing a wave of emotions that competed with each other every time she thought of Sherlock. She thought he ought to confront him about what happened, and actually had the courage to knock on his door, but only Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, answered.

"Is Sherlock in?" Amy asked, getting ready to yell obscenities at him.

"Sorry, dear. He's somewhere in … now where did he say?" Mrs. Hudson took a moment to think. "Baskerville, he said. I don't know how long he's gone for, he never really says."

Her level of anger dropped and she thanked Mrs. Hudson for the help. Since she was reassured that she wouldn't accidently bump in to Sherlock for the next little while, she decided to go back to work. There was no reason for her to not work – she'd done enough sightseeing the first week she was in London – and she didn't even have enough money for a mini vacation anyways.

Going back to work was easy. She was a crowd favorite with her sassy attitude and bright personality. A pair of dark eyes came upon her. It was the same man that came to the café a while ago.

"Hello, Amy," he said in his Irish accent. "I'd like a black coffee, two sugars."

"Right away," she said, hurrying back to the counter.

It wouldn't be until a few weeks until she realized that the man she was serving was Moriarty. But in the meantime, she'd loathe serving him. Everything about him creeped Amy out, but it was still those eyes. Those eyes sent chills down her spine, and it was always in the worst way.

She came back with the coffee, and he grabbed her wrist, "What sort of connection do you have with Sherlock Holmes?"

"Connection with Sherlock? None. We're basically strangers," she said in a tone of disgust while pulling her wrist away.

"So you're not friends, then?"

"Friends?" Amy scoffed. "I'd rather be caught dead than being friends with that idiot."

"That's good to know," Jim quietly said to himself while he took out his phone.

Amy wondered why he was so curious about him, but decided against asking. She didn't want to make any unnecessary conversation with him. Walking around the restaurant checking her customers, she saw Jim's phone and a list of people. Her name was on there and it was crossed out. Sally's too. The only names circled were John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. Curious.

The crash of plates diverted her attention from the phone, and she went to aid the new waitress. When Amy looked up, Jim was gone.

**SHERLOCK**

For Sherlock, this was the ultimate game that only luck let him play. It started off so innocent. He was just a mere detective chasing a serial killer cabbie when he caught sight of the girl with red hair. Now it was ruining his life. All he could think about was Amy Pond and how she may be the next person to ever outsmart him. She didn't even have any intentions to, but this was what was going to happen if he couldn't figure out the inner workings of her brain. Was he losing his touch?

Thankfully, he convinced John not to publish a blog entry about him falling in love with Amy. One: because it wasn't true – he was adamant about being in love with the game, but even he doubted himself sometimes. And two: he knew she read John's blog, and seeing as he doesn't really understand her at all, her actions could go anywhere. Worst case scenario would be her moving back to Leadworth and Sherlock never seeing her again.

Unfortunately for him, he was sent off on another case. Sure, it took his mind off of Amy, but it just meant that he was getting further away from figuring it out. On the way to Baskerville, Sherlock could tell that John wanted to talk.

"What is it, John?" Sherlock broke the silence.

"Amy will probably never talk to you again. You know that, right?"

"She will. In time. I know her, she'll get over it."

"That's just it, Sherlock. You think you know someone from what you deduce in just a few minutes, but this girl isn't just anyone. Let me put this in your terms," John cleared his throat. "She _obviously _likes you, and you _obviously_ like her. But you _obviously_ can't figure out that what you did may just ruin whatever chance you had with her. Sure, you did your experiment, but at what cost? Never seeing her again? You've thought about this, right?"

"Of course I thought about it. I'm always thinking about it. I never stop thinking about it."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Maybe that's your problem. Just stop thinking think about it and let it take its natural course."

"I don't know what that means, John. And you know I can't just stop thinking."

"I know. I don't even know why I suggested it. Forget about it."

They were still travelling on the road, but mostly in silence. Sherlock couldn't voluntarily stop thinking. His mind was meant to overanalyze situations in order to immerse himself in every single tiny detail. Sherlock wasn't going to take John's advice because John talked about letting go of the analytical side and falling to his so-called romantic side.

They reached Grimpen Village in no time and Sherlock and John began their investigating. John was getting better at noticing things which made Sherlock happier. They made their trip into Baskerville. It was quite an experience for both of them and they had to seriously think on their feet for most of it. It all seemed far too suspicious for Sherlock. Finally, they brought Henry Knight to the moor and everything went downhill from there.

Sherlock couldn't believe his own eyes. He was so shaken by the incident that he couldn't think straight. It helped keep Amy off of his mind, but that wasn't what he was worried about. He never doubted himself so much before that he just couldn't sleep. John attempted to calm him down and reassure him that it wasn't real, but that didn't help at all. Rationalization was not helping at all. Nothing was helping – not even alcohol.

Sherlock picked up his glass and scoffed, "Look at me, I'm afraid, John. Afraid."

His hand was trembling as he took a sip.

"Sherlock."

"Once been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself of feelings. But look, you see? Body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions."

_There's nothing wrong with me. Right?_

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Sherlock yelled at John.

After their brief spat, Sherlock sent John to talk to the psychiatrist whilst Sherlock went to their room. He kept telling himself that he was fine. It was just a gigantic hound that shouldn't have been there, but it was.

_I'm fine. I'M FINE._

He ran out of energy pacing the room and laid down on the couch in the dark. He looked outside the windows of the balcony doors to see the stars were shining brightly, but that just made him bored. The picture of the hound was slowly being digested into his brain. John came back to the room and Sherlock turned on the lamp, making both of them squint their eyes. John looked exhausted and defeated.

"Didn't go well, then?" Sherlock had his eyes on John.

"No, guess who showed up?"

"Who?"

"Dr. Frankland," John sighed. "He blew my cover. Whatever. I'm going to bed."

When John got himself into bed, Sherlock turned off the lamp. He knew he wasn't going to get any sleep whatsoever with that _thing_ out there in the woods. Sherlock needed to at least keep his mind active. He wished he brought his violin. The image of his flat came to mind and he enjoyed the familiarity. He was taking a tour of his own flat and came upon the smiley face. _Amy._ Sherlock swung his feet over the couch and sat up properly. He realized that he hadn't had the time to access his mind palace since the time he last saw her. He didn't make any new connections between the old and new information.

He started with everything he could remember about her emotions. In his mind, he was spinning a prize wheel, but every time, he'd get to the prize where all it was were question marks. This was Irene Adler all over again. There were no connections between anything of use to him. All her emotions were otherwise completely and perfectly genuine. She didn't hide those at all. He liked seeing her happy – the crinkle in her eyes when she smiled, the natural flush of her cheeks. Sherlock thought that to everyone else, she must have been just a typical ginger girl with no worries or cares. Oh, how those people were so utterly wrong. He took another spin on the imaginary prize wheel in his head again. Love. What? She wasn't in love with him – an undeniable attraction, sure. Why was love an option?

Sherlock realized he stopped finding out what she was feeling, but rather, how he was feeling towards her.

"Sherlock?"

The light was apparently on, and John was standing by the washroom door.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Can't sleep. Accessing mind palace."

"The hound?"

"No. Amy."

John smirked and then cocked his head to the right in delight, "Really?"

"I'm afraid, John," Sherlock spoke after a minute of silence.

"Of what?"

"I think I am in love with her."

"So then why are you afraid?"

"How do I know that what I'm feeling is real? What if it's the game that is causing me to feel this…this attachment. This devotion to her?"

"Sherlock, it's not the game," John was in disbelief.

Sherlock closed his eyes and saw her smile. He opened his eyes again.

"What's going to happen if I figure her out in the end? I'll lose interest in her. She'll be boring to me, and I won't be in love anymore because, John, even if it is the game that is making me feel this way, there is no chance in hell that I'll ever meet someone like Amy Pond again."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**AMY**

Where in the world was Sherlock Holmes? She hadn't heard anything from him or John, even with her incessant texting. She wanted to find out the story behind his outburst from weeks before, but she couldn't track them down. Were they still in Baskerville? She'd even been working seven days straight in order to maybe bump into one of them, but nothing happened.

Soon Sherlock and John's faces would pop up on the telly and in the papers. They solved this crime, they arrested a man that was on Interpol's most wanted, and they found a missing banker. Amy would learn of where they were, but it was impossible to even run into either Sherlock or John because they were so unbelievably busy solving cases. What was Amy to do? Create a high profile crime that would attract the attention of Sherlock? Of course not. So she spent her days aimlessly working in Speedy's café, watching the tourists go by, until the day she would finally confront Sherlock.

One day, while she was getting home for work, a familiar face on a newspaper caught Amy Pond's eyes. It was the face of Jim. Jim Moriarty. He broke into the Crown Jewels. It was deemed the crime of the century. He did everything that she thought he was possible of committing. Her instincts were correct, and she was terrified that she was so close to that criminal. She didn't understand why she was that scared, even Prisoner Zero didn't seem that terrible in her mind compared to him. She flipped to the next page to see that Sherlock Holmes' credibility was falling, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the front page.

"Sally?" Amy was in their flat's kitchen. She was reading the newspaper article about Moriarty just as Sally came back from work.

"Yes?" Sally poured herself some tea. Sally seemed a bit peeved off.

"I served this man, at Speedy's," Amy pointed to his picture.

"Are you serious?" Sally took the newspaper from her hands.

"Yea. I knew from the second I saw him that something was just so horrible about him," she groaned. "You know what I saw the other day?"

"What?"

"He had this list of names on his phone. Our names were on it, but they were crossed out," she told her. "I didn't really think much of it. Could it mean something now?"

"Possibly," Sally responded, getting her coat from the closet. "I'll go back to the station and check it out. Were there any other names that stood out?"

"John Watson, Mrs. Hudson, and a man named Lestrade," she said. "I don't know who the last one is."

"That's the DI. That's the man I work for," Sally said, now incredibly confused with what was going on. "And you said that these names are on a list belonging to Moriarty?"

Amy nodded, "their names were all circled. What does it mean?"

Amy knew what it meant when she asked, but she just needed to confirm her fears.

Sally responded, "I think something is going to happen to them. None of it is making sense."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not quite sure. Probably place some form of protection on Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson," Sally said.

"What about John and Sherlock?"

"We can't do anything about them," Sally turned around to face the sink.

Amy got slightly irritated, "Sally, you have to let go of your hatred of Sherlock Holmes and help him!"

"It's not that, Amy," she said. "He's a possible suspect in a kidnapping and potential murder case. Arresting him would be the best possible way of protecting the two. Which we did, but he escaped with John."

"What do you mean he's a possible suspect?"

"Sorry, Amy. I can't disclose any more information," Sally turned around to face Amy, who was standing just a foot away from her. "Remember when I told you that one day he'd be leaving a body at a crime scene for us to figure out?"

Amy nodded.

"He may as well have."

Amy went cold. She didn't want to believe Sally. Amy scoffed to herself. She couldn't believe that she placed so much trust into a man she only came face to face twice, and the second time he barely even spoke to her. He was intelligent and had the resources to commit crimes without getting caught, but that wasn't the Sherlock knew. Sally put her coat on and grabbed her keys.

"Amy? If you see Sherlock, or anything suspicious, call me?" Sally said as she walked out the door.

"Right, sure," Amy lied as she lifted her tea pot.

Sally left and Amy was alone in their flat. It was all too quiet and Amy was growing suspicious. If Sherlock and John were fugitives, where would they go? Would they come to Amy? Probably not seeing as Sally works for the police. The loud text alert on Amy's cell went off and made her jump, accidentally making her pour her boiling tea all over her hand, scalding the area. She was in an incredible amount of pain that even cold water couldn't fix. The skin was incredibly red and some of the skin was peeling off. She put a wet tea towel over it and left the flat as quickly as she could. She hailed a cab with her other hand and got in.

"St. Bartholomew's hospital, please. And hurry."

**SHERLOCK**

Love = 1

Emotional rigidity = 0

When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. And the truth is Sherlock Holmes was in love. He couldn't deny it anymore. As much as he wanted to escape the sentiment that he felt, the image of Amy would constantly flood his brain, and he honestly didn't mind. He had to make a choice – one that almost made him break down because it was just that difficult. He was going to lose the game and forever wonder what was behind those green eyes of Amelia Pond. Sherlock made the sacrifice in order to stay in love. For once in his life, he didn't want to lose the hold he had on his feelings. If he needed to, he'd force himself to not wonder about her.

Now all he had to do was apologize. The only thing was that cases were piling up, which brought the newly famous Sherlock and John all over the United Kingdom, so he was away from London for too long. The only advantage with fame was that the cases were getting intriguing, more difficult, and kept him from going bored. John told him to just phone Amy and apologize, but Sherlock wanted to make a proper apology to the woman he loved. It would be more meaningful if he did it face to face. So in the end, there was no actual contact between Sherlock and Amy, and it was killing him inside.

Then, Sherlock learned that Moriarty was back and he committed the crime of the century. Being a genius, he managed to walk free. When he came to visit, Sherlock tried his best to not kill him in one fell swoop, but give him the best British hospitality he could manage. If Moriarty wanted a game, so be it, as long as it was a good one.

"It's going to start very soon, Sherlock," Moriarty spoke to Sherlock as he sat in Sherlock's chair. "The fall. But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying except there's a more permanent destination."

Sherlock got up and buttoned his blazer, "I never liked riddles."

Moriarty and Sherlock were staring each other down, "Learn to. Because I owe you a fall. Sherlock."

The tension in the room was growing, even as the conversation was dying.

"I owe you."

Moriarty disappeared for two months, leaving Sherlock on his toes. Assassins moved into Baker Street? Curious, but just something that had Moriarty's name all over it. Another case was ready for Sherlock to solve in the meantime. Again, there was no doubt in Sherlock and John's mind that it was all Moriarty. He promised to come back. He was obsessed with the consulting detective.

Moriarty chose an impossible case. Not for Sherlock, but for the team at Scotland Yard. The case – everything about it – seemed too impossible for a regular person, even Sherlock, to solve, and yet he did with clues that would have been missed. This doubt placed in each of their brains took over. And it sent Sherlock and John running. Running into Kitty Riley and Richard Brook. John decided to deviate to Mycroft, and Sherlock found a friend in Molly.

The only safe haven was, ironically, the hospital. Up until he decided to text Moriarty.

_Come and play. Bart's Hospital rooftop. SH. PS. Got something of yours you might want back. _

Moriarty was waiting. Sherlock grabbed his coat and left the lab. A glimpse of fiery red hair caught his attention. Amy Pond was waiting in the ward with her hand bandaged up.

"Amy?" He said aloud.

She heard her voice being called and looked around, but didn't see him. Sherlock took a few steps towards her and then stopped. No, he didn't want to talk to her. He couldn't. It wasn't time. There wasn't time to.

A nurse accidentally dropped the clipboard she was holding onto Amy's bandaged hand. She winced at the pain. The memories of her from the moment they locked eyes onto each other at Angelo's to the day she left his flat in tears cycled through his mind. All those emotions. Sherlock added pain to his list of emotions that he had for her, but it still didn't mean anything to him. Amy had that air of mystery about her that he gave up figuring out, and he realized he wasn't totally content with his decision. It made him miserable. But he needed those feelings to stay. Sherlock was thinking that this was the last time he would see her. He wanted to talk to her. To apologize. His phone beeped.

_I'm still waiting. JM._

He groaned and turned the other way. Sherlock Holmes went up the stairs to meet the man who owed him a fall.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**AMY**

With her newly bandaged hand, she began walking out of the hospital. From the entrance, she could see it was morning now. The nurses took way too long to tend to Amy, so she was pretty exhausted. The nap in the waiting room didn't do much to curb her sleepiness either. A taxi screeched to a halt in front of St. Bart's. John got out with his phone held to his ear. Amy couldn't get a good look, but he looked very stressed.

"John?" Amy said as she walked faster to the door. She pushed the door with her bandaged hand and winced at the pain.

She quickly looked left and right before crossing the road. What was John looking at?

"John!" John looked at her in absolute horror when he caught sight of Amy.

She knew something was horribly wrong when she saw the look of absolute panic on John's face. He pointed upwards. Amy looked.

_No._

"Sherlock? Hello?" John looked at his phone.

She wasn't the one that was going to jump, but it was as if her life - or her life that included Sherlock - was passing by in her eyes. From the restaurant to now, everything that ever happened to her was playing back in exact detail. Funny, she thought, how they really only met twice, and the second time that they did Sherlock spoke two sentences to her, and the rest were deductions he made silently in his mind.

Knowing him, Sherlock was going to jump. But before he could, the puzzle pieces fell into place in her mind. The brick wall in her mind fell, and she saw why she found this man so very, very interesting.

Watching him, from the ground, she finally understood the attraction. Even from the very first time she saw him, she knew that she had to meet him, to be with him – even if it wasn't in a romantic way. Sherlock Holmes reminded her of the Doctor. Everything about Sherlock, minus the anti-social graces, mirrored the Doctor. He was generous, he was adventurous, and he was tortured. He'd give up his life for others. He grabbed her wrist the way the Doctor did. And Amy would always believe in Sherlock Holmes, just like the Doctor. She waited for him to come back.

In the time that the Doctor reappeared in Amy's life for less than an hour, she could see all his qualities. And this was what she could see in Sherlock.

She had to prepare herself – he was going to leave her, just like how the Doctor left. But this time, there was no possibility that he'd come back. She was unconsciously clutching her chest in one hand because she was getting ready for her heart to break. In the other, she was holding John's arm because maybe he'd be able to catch the pieces of her heart falling in tandem with Sherlock's jump. John would need the support too as he'd watch his best friend fall to his death.

Her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Amy," it was Sherlock. "Don't move. Just stand beside John."

She was looking at Sherlock and her stomach flopped. Her breathing was irregular. The sound of his low voice created butterflies in her stomach, but it was the wrong time for that.

"That night, you asked me why I found you interesting and before I could answer, we were at your flat."

"Yeah. Are you telling me now?"

"Yes. Behind those eyes I saw something that I couldn't figure out. There's always something I miss. I thought that if I could spend some time with you, I'd realize what it was. But then I fell in love with you."

Amy gulped, but smiled. She could hear the absolute terror in his voice, even as he tried to make himself sound calm. She felt like she was going to collapse in her spot. Her legs didn't want to support the weight of everything. Amy's grip on John became tighter.

"And I had to give up that search to keep those feelings. But you know what? I think I got it. I told John that I was scared to fall out of love when I figured you out, but that didn't happen. Even as I'm standing here, I still wish I could be with you."

"Then come down," Amy's eyes were tearing up, distorting her view of Sherlock.

"Someone left you, didn't they?

"Yes."

"And it hurt."

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"Was it worth it?"

"What?"

"Meeting me."

"Of course it was."

"I'm sorry, Amy. Tell John, too."

"Sherlock –"

"Good bye."

John and Amy watched as his body pummelled to the ground. She closed her eyes before his body hit the ground, but she still heard the thump. John crossed the road, and he got knocked down by a cyclist. He was still determined to get to the body, and when he did, he broke down.

She couldn't move. She didn't even bother wiping away the tears falling from her eyes and onto the cold concrete. The only singular thought that was running through her mind was him. Nothing could match what she was feeling at that moment.

"Sherlock."

**SHERLOCK**

Even though he was standing on the roof, he could see the people down below quite clearly. He could recognize all of the horrified faces that were peering at him. Sherlock could see John. John would hate him forever for doing this, but it was for his own safety. Sherlock could only pray that John would understand.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came," Sherlock instructed John.

"No, I'm coming in."

"Just. Do as I ask. Please," there was a slight tone of desperation in Sherlock's voice.

It was something that John never heard before, and he knew something was wrong.

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."

Pure horror flashed over John's face, "oh, God."

"I-I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."

"What's going on?"

"An apology. It's all true. Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty. I'm a fake," Sherlock looked at Moriarty's body. Blood was still seeping out from the hole in his head.

"Sherlock –"

Sherlock took a few more seconds to just take every detail in, "The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson. Molly. And Amy –"

It was at that moment when he saw that fiery red hair. The girl, Amy, was standing beside John. She looked up at him after John pointed towards the sky.

He stopped the call between him and John and looked in his contact list. He just recently got Amy's number from John. Sherlock looked up from his phone. He took a breath in and looked down at her.

There was something different in her face. Something Sherlock never noticed because she never had the opportunity to show him. Her face, her look, showed him everything that he missed in their conversation at Christmas and at tea. Everything that he questioned about her, even from such far heights, was laid out as plain as day.

Ordinary people would see it as sadness, but she was far from that. She was showing loss. Remembering when he made her angry, and then sad, he failed to realize that loss and sadness were two different things. Even though they never really got to know each other, he could see it in her face that showed extreme desperation and loss. Why did she show that to him? She didn't know him that well. This wasn't a normal human response for two people who just met. Even John didn't show this emotion. Amy must have lost someone that wasn't her friend or relative. She tried to forget about this loss by coming here, and now, she was going to feel it again. He saw that she was clutching her chest. Sherlock was going to break her heart, just like the person before him. He dialled her number.

"Hello?" Amy's voice kept him calm.

"Amy. Don't move. Just stand beside John. That night, you asked me why I found you interesting and before I could answer, we were at your flat."

"Yeah. Why are you telling me now?"

"Behind those eyes I saw something that I couldn't figure out. There's always something I miss. I thought that if I could spend some time with you, I'd realize what it was. But then I fell in love with you."

Even behind the pain, he could tell that the smile was genuine. That was the last time Sherlock was going to see that smile.

"And I had to give up that search to keep those feelings. But you know what? I think I got it. I told John that I was scared to fall out of love when I figured you out, but that didn't happen. Even as I'm standing here, I still wish I could be with you."

"Then come down," Amy's eyes were tearing up, distorting her view of Sherlock.

He whispered, "Someone left you, didn't they?"

He looked at her face again. This person she lost, she'd also been waiting for a return. While Sherlock was away, she was waiting. Waiting for someone she barely knew.

"Yes."

"And it hurt."

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"Was it worth it?"

"What?"

"Meeting me."

"Of course it was," she gave him a genuine response.

"I'm sorry, Amy. Tell John, too."

"Sherlock –"

"Good bye."

Sherlock figured it out. Loss. He was satisfied, but he didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave John, but if he didn't, the people he cared about would die. Sherlock closed his eyes and reached into his memories to find the picture of Amy smiling and the time he kissed her. Last words were overrated. His last thought would be what counts. It was private and definitely something that no one could ever distort, especially in the newspapers. Another step and Sherlock hit the pavement.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**AMY**

The weather in London was drab, but much like any time of the day, the city was filled with hustle and bustle. Amy walked around in a daze, aimlessly wandering through the crowd of laughing and smiling tourists. Sherlock Holmes was dead. For Amy, there was nothing much to look forward to anymore.

Walking down the sidewalk away from where she last saw his body, she stopped at a men's store. Right in the window was a mannequin dressed in a long unbuttoned black wool coat and a dark blue scarf tied around the neck.

Amy's heart stopped.

"_But then I fell in love with you," _his voice was echoing in her head. _"Was it worth it?"_

She shook his voice out of her head. As much as she wanted to hear his voice again, it hurt too much. It didn't take her long to realize that she was absolutely certain that it was time to move back to Leadworth. Quickly, she returned to the flat she shared with Sally and grabbed her suitcases. She needed to get out of London as quickly as she could. She needed a huge change again to get her mind off of Sherlock – at least for now. Leadworth was where she could get rid of those memories. Rory would help her – help her when she couldn't sleep because all she would see in her mind was Sherlock's body on the pavement.

She didn't even care about the Doctor anymore because, frankly, he was alive the last time she saw him. Sherlock was dead. She began hyperventilating when she began to picture his body on the concrete. She leaned on her dresser in order to support herself, but the tears started all over again. All she saw when she closed her eyes was his body, his broken body, on the sidewalk. Amy couldn't even move the moment he hit the ground, she just stood in her spot in the road while John rushed over to him.

The funeral was painful to participate in. She begged him not to be dead. She begged that it was just some part of an elaborate scheme that he concocted. She watched as the casket was lowered down into the hole. Tears fell from her eyes and she clutched John's limp arm. John was trying to stay strong – it was his soldier mentality telling him to do so – but Amy knew that he was suffering. He buried many people that he knew during the war, but this wasn't an ordinary person that John had to say goodbye to, and Amy knew this. Walking back to the car, she thought she saw Sherlock watching on, but a double take proved that grief was making her see things.

Before the funeral, Amy told John that he would need a token of Sherlock's to remember, especially if John just broke down one day with terrible sadness and grief from his lost friend. John decided on keeping Sherlock's trademark jacket that he always seemed to wear. He placed it in a trunk at the foot of his bed. Looking around Sherlock's room, John decided to give Amy Sherlock's scarf to keep. He gave Lestrade the deerstalker.

Amy passed the kitchen and put her keys on the counter. On it, Sally's laptop was opened to Sherlock's site. Amy found it hard to breathe. Slowly, her finger made it closer to the track pad. She opened the email tab and after a little hesitation, she began typing.

_Sherlock,_

_There's so much I wish I can say to you, but I can't. You're gone. _

_You're an extraordinary person. What they said in the newspapers is absolute rubbish. I never had a doubt in my mind that you were a fraud. Never. You were right, of course, about me wanting to leave Leadworth. And someone special left, but it wasn't his fault. It's no one's fault really. It's really hard to explain, but I left my home to come to London in order to forget. You, Sherlock, reminded me of him, and now that you're gone, I'm moving back._

_Everything was good when you were alive. Everything was perfect. But your death. It hurts. And it will keep hurting, and Sherlock, I don't know if it will ever stop hurting._

_It's kind of crazy to think that we don't really know each other and how you've made such an impact on my life, but you have. From the first time I saw you, something about the way you leaped into action at a moment's notice made such an impression on me. _

_Oh god, I must sound like a deranged fan._

_I'm sorry if I'm rambling. It's hard just to type this knowing you won't be there to read it. _

_Sherlock._

_I'll always believe in you. I want you to know that. I am a complete stranger who has been in your life for such a short time. And I believe in you._

_Not only that, though, you made me believe in so much more. You gave me hope. _

_I'll never forget you. _

_All my love,_

_Amy Pond_

Her email was choppy, to say the least, but what did she expect? She was heartbroken. With that, she pressed "send." Taking one last look at her apartment, and saying goodbye to a grieving John, she left London. Passing Baker Street, she took one last look at the spot where she met Sherlock and closed her eyes. That was the one amazing memory she never wanted to forget.

**SHERLOCK**

The icon on his new cell was beeping.

_One new message._

On the outskirts of London, Sherlock Holmes read that email.

* * *

_Hello there! A friendly note to let you lovely readers know that there are more chapters to come for this story! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**AMY**

Amy Pond was getting married.

But something was missing. Something huge.

All of a sudden, her mother entered her room with a tray of food. For some odd reason, Amy didn't know why she was so surprised to see her mom. It was her mom, so why did she have that second of doubt? She phoned her soon to be husband, Rory Williams, to see if he also had that nagging feeling in his head. Of course, Rory didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

As the day progressed, she said her vows, took a lot of pictures, and was ready for her reception. The only thing was the pesky sensation in her head telling her to remember. But what? Noticing a woman with very curly hair walking by, she got up, thinking that something was a bit odd. Then, a journal was given to her. Bow ties, suspenders. Amy was crying. She was sad. And then she remembered.

She brought the Doctor back, through a story he told her that night when she was 7. But there was something missing. Something even bigger than the Doctor – if that was even possible. The Doctor said that the crack was eating away at her memories. That the crack made her forget some things about her past – like her parents. But she managed to remember them, even after the second Big Bang. She didn't know what they looked like, and yet she brought them back into her life. So what was missing? Or, rather, who was missing?

"Come on, Pond! Let's dance!" the Doctor grabbed Amy's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.

"That's embarrassing!" Amy called out his ridiculous dance moves that bordered on a drunken giraffe.

She couldn't help it and joined in with him. Soon, the Doctor had a following. More and more kids were doing that "move." She giggled to herself. The only thing she cared about at that moment was the bonkers dance move that the Doctor was doing. She faced Daleks, Weeping Angels, and, essentially, the end of time, but all that faded away when her new husband came towards her.

A slow song came on, which for Rory, was the perfect time to share their last dance on their wedding day. He lightly grabbed her waist and pulled her in. Everything was perfect. She held onto his neck and they started swaying to the music. She could stay like that forever.

But forever had a time limit and their guests had to leave after an exhausting but beautiful wedding. Rory and Amy weren't finished though. They took their little party outside with a midnight stroll through the roads in Leadworth to Amy's childhood home.

"Oh, jeez!" Rory stopped in the middle of the road. "I forgot my jacket! I'll be right back."

"Okay, moron!" Amy laughed. "I'll meet you at my house?"

"Deal!" Rory turned around and gave a huge smile.

The night was cool, but Amy didn't mind. She took her time getting to her house. She realized that it was the first time in a while that she was actually alone without any threat. She enjoyed her alone time and twirled around in her wedding dress. Something was still nagging at her mind, but she pushed it aside. When she got to her home, she went to her room to grab a jumper or a jacket of some sort.

She went through her whole closet to find something suitable to match her wedding dress, but nothing was right. Sitting on the ground in frustration, she noticed something peeking out from under a shoe box in her closet. Amy crawled to the spot and picked up the box. It was a dark blue scarf. Since when did she have a scarf like that? She didn't remember ever wearing it either. Did she buy it? Whose was it?

It definitely wasn't Rory's, and it certainly didn't belong to any of her family members. Could it belong to the Doctor? It was close to being TARDIS blue, but then again, this was too plain for the Doctor to wear. After all, the Doctor liked bow ties, fezzes, and tweed. A scarf like this was far too normal for the Doctor.

She examined it more closely. There was a strand of black hair on it still. Too short for a woman's, but coarse enough to belong to a man. She sniffed the scarf, but the scent was unfamiliar. Amy went to her mirror and put the scarf around her neck, but stopped before tying it on when she noticed she was crying.

"Why am I crying?" she asked herself as she wiped away her tears.

Amy Pond was sad. No, more than sad. She was feeling tremendous grief and loss. This was the second time she cried that day, but the first where she felt her heart ache. She looked at herself in the mirror with a look that came across as a mixture of anguish and confusion.

Unconsciously, she tied the scarf in a way that she didn't usually tie scarves around her neck. She folded the scarf in half and then put the ends into the loop. She tightened the scarf.

She gasped, "Sherlock."

**SHERLOCK**

Even being "dead," Sherlock still had some trusted contacts. Faking his death was difficult, but finding out information about his friends was easy. John moved out, and was in the process of getting over his death, but it was obviously tremendously hard. Mrs. Hudson took his death in stride, knowing that she was his landlady made her proud. Lestrade was desperate for him to come back, reluctantly seeing his police division slide towards incompetence. And Amy? She was getting married.

Sherlock managed to get his hands on an invitation.

_Amy Pond and Rory Williams._

Rory Williams? The boyfriend? Admittedly, he was slightly jealous that Rory managed to snag the most wonderful girl Sherlock ever met. Though he understood that she had to move on eventually. It was tough getting info on her since she lived in a small town where everyone knew each other. A stranger getting information looked suspicious. Bribing became his solution.

Would he make the trip up to Leadworth to see the impending nuptials? Surely, being there wouldn't change her mind. It's not like she would drop her engagement and run away with him. Before going any further with questions he couldn't answer, he analyzed his feelings. Did he still love her? He wasn't sure. It'd been a long time since he saw her face to face. John would be the best person to ask, but that was completely out of the question. Obviously.

Sitting in a small coffee shop, Sherlock decided that he would crash a certain wedding.

_A few days later ..._

Sherlock Holmes was in Leadworth and checked into the local hotel under an inconspicuous name. He was there to mostly observe. Nothing more. He wouldn't even know what he'd say to her, or what she'd say back. The worst thing that could happen to him would be if she completely rejected him. She probably even hated him for faking his death.

He arrived just after the ceremony was over – he couldn't watch Amy say her vows – and skipped the reception. If she did remember him, making a scene during the wedding wasn't going to be any good. So he took to silently observing when they began dancing. The only problem was that it was too dark to see her face properly, but it did obscure him perfectly. Sherlock could tell from her body language that she did love Rory Williams dearly. Another thing he noticed was her undeniable attraction – not romantically – to a man wearing a top hat and a bow tie. This man was very old fashioned, but looked quite young. Something was off about this man - like Amy - but Sherlock let it go for tonight. He deduced that this was the man who left her. He who tore her heart to pieces and left her wandering London, only to run into Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock walked up to the man. He was leaning by the doorway watching Amy and Rory. From afar, Sherlock could tell that he said something along the lines of, "two thousand years. The boy who waited. Good on you, mate."

Finally, Sherlock reached the man. Sherlock held out his hand and the man shook it.

"Thank you," Sherlock told the man.

The man gave a toothy grin, "I'm sorry?"

"Thank you. I owe it to you," Sherlock told him.

The Doctor was still confused, but gave a huge smile nonetheless, "Uh, you're welcome!"

Sherlock walked out of the dance area and outside for some fresh air. Seeing as he really had no place there anymore, he decided that the best thing to do would be to leave. Walking towards the hotel, he took a detour seeing as the night was unusually nice for that time of the year. He remembered the night he met Amy. How he fell in love with her, but kept denying his feelings.

"Oh, jeez!" Sherlock heard someone calling out. "I forgot my jacket! I'll be right back."

"Okay, moron!" He heard Amy's voice. "I'll meet you at my house?"

"Deal!" Sherlock ducked into the darkness and saw Rory pass right by him.

Sherlock emerged out and saw Amy twirling around in her wedding dress in the night. Her bright red hair and porcelain skin stuck out in the darkness of the night - like a candle flame dancing in the darkness of a cave - but he didn't mind. He saw that she was truly happy. She didn't show an ounce of loss in her. Did she even remember him?

"Amy," he said out loud, but she didn't seem to hear him.

She stopped twirling and walked normal. Quietly and stealthily, he followed her. He wanted so bad to say something to her, but he couldn't think of anything. Soon enough, they arrived at her house. Sherlock waited outside and tried to come up with something to say. From the window, all he could hear was some movement, as if she were digging through her closet. All of a sudden, he heard nothing. He couldn't get a good look from the ground, so he quietly opened the front door and went up the stairs. He wasn't sure if she fainted or if something happened to her, but he was worried.

Sherlock saw the dim light coming from the lamp and saw her in front of her mirror. He was just peeking through the door, but could see that she was wearing his scarf.

From the reflection in the mirror, he could see her face as clear as the day they met. She showed significant loss and sadness. But there was something wrong. It was as if she couldn't remember something. She was confused about the scarf. Did she forget Sherlock? She tied the scarf on the way he use to. Something in her face changed. Amy's face showed that she had an epiphany of sorts. She remembered. And she missed Sherlock dearly.

"Sherlock," she gasped.

He heard his name and ducked behind the wall and into the living room. The way she said his name sent chills up his spine and created butterflies in his stomach. He didn't know if she saw him, but he knew that there was one thing that was certain. He was still in love with the girl who didn't make sense.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**AMY**

Amy began hyperventilating, and she collapsed on the floor. She burst into sobs. Her tears ended up on his scarf. She found the strength to quickly take off the scarf and throw it on her bed. How could she have forgotten about Sherlock Holmes? Her whole body was weak, and if it wasn't for her bed, she would have been in a fetal position on the floor trying to suck in air. Amy pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head on her arms. She closed her eyes, but all she saw was his body on the cold concrete.

"No," Amy said aloud. "Not that."

Her memories were reversing in her head. It went from the death, to the kiss – she touched her lips when it came to it – to them meeting during Christmas, to the day they first saw each other. She wasn't finished crying when Rory unexpectedly came in. Amy didn't hear his footsteps walking up the stairs – the only steps she heard were the ones she took the Christmas night she met Sherlock Holmes. How he stood there just staring into her soul, trying to deduce the thing that he'd figure out on the day he jumped from the hospital rooftop. The memory of him in the restaurant returned to her. She missed those eyes. So cold, but so full of love that only she could bring out. Amy closed her eyes, letting more tears fall down her cheek.

"Amy? What's wrong?" Rory immediately knelt beside her.

She wiped away her tears and got up with Rory's help, "it's nothing."

"Not getting cold feet, are you?" Rory nervously joked.

"No, no. It's not that," Amy said more confidently.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Amy looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged, and her eyes and nose were red, but she didn't care. Looking at Rory from the reflection, she thought she saw Sherlock in the doorway. She turned around instantly, but no one was there.

"Amy, you can tell me. I'm your husband," Rory gave his assurance to her.

Amy gave him a kiss on the lips and then hugged him, "It's just the Doctor coming back and all of that."

She didn't mean to lie to him, but she couldn't explain to him that she remembered Sherlock just yet. Clearly, Rory didn't remember the stories she told of him, nor did he even remember about the scarf. She wanted to keep Sherlock for herself. Amy and Rory heard the sound of doors opening, and they both rushed towards her window. It was the Doctor getting into the TARDIS.

"Come on!" Amy said with excitement, pushing the thoughts of Sherlock to the back of her mind, escaping the pain of his death only for a moment.

Amy grabbed Rory's hand and they raced downstairs. They went right into the TARDIS.

"Oi! Where are you off to? We haven't even had a snog in the shrubbery yet," Amy made it sound as if nothing was wrong, so her flirtatious nature came out.

"Amy!" Rory scolded.

"Shut up! It's my wedding!"

"Our wedding!"

"Sorry, you two. Shouldn't have slipped away. It's been a bit busy. You know," the Doctor stammered as he fiddled with the controls on the TARDIS.

Rory and the Doctor kept conversing.

"Sorry. Something's come up. This will have to be goodbye," the Doctor ended.

_I'm sorry, Amy. Tell John too. Goodbye._

"Yeah. I think it's goodbye. Do you think it's goodbye?" she heard herself speak. "Definitely goodbye."

A tear was developing in her eye. "Actually, hold on a minute. Let me grab something from my room," Amy stopped Rory and the Doctor.

Amy got out of the TARDIS and she went up the stairs, holding the railing in one hand and her dress in the other. She wanted to bring the scarf with her. She _needed_ to bring the scarf with her. She was going to forget about her childhood, her kiss-o-gram job, and basically everything about Leadworth, but she had to hold onto the memory of the consulting detective. Amy opened the door and saw that the scarf was gone.

"What?" she tried to remember if Rory brought it with him.

Accepting that as what happened, she left her room, went down the stairs, and out the door. She turned around to get another good look at her home. This was where she met the Doctor for the first time, and this is where he kept coming back to her. This is where her adventure started. She smiled. Turning around, she came face to face with a stranger.

"Oi!" she was startled, to say the least.

The man was standing about an arm's length away from her under the archway and was wearing the blue scarf. Her eyes adjusted to the moonlight and Amy saw the striking blue eyes that she thought she'd never see again.

"Hello, Amy."

**SHERLOCK **

Sherlock placed his back towards the wall, trying desperately to keep his rapidly beating heart at bay. He tried to make sure the sound of him breathing heavily and irregularly could not be heard. He was still in love with her, but he shouldn't have been. She was married now.

From his spot in the living room, he could see pictures of Amy and her family, friends, and new husband scattered around on the mantelpiece. Amy had a life in Leadworth – one that didn't need Sherlock Holmes intruding in. The sound of a body falling to the ground caught Sherlock by surprise. He saw Amy on the ground sobbing heavily with her knees up to her chest and her head on her arms. His scarf was sitting on her bed. From the way it laid there, he could tell that she forcibly removed it from her neck. Was it a sign that she didn't want to see him? Sherlock took it that way and his heart dropped.

The sounds of footsteps walking up the stairs made Sherlock retreat to the corner of the living room away from her bedroom. A little peek told Sherlock that it was Rory. He loathed that man. He was so plain, so utterly boring. What did Amy see in him? She could have chosen anyone in the world, and she seemed to have settled for the mundane.

"Amy? What's wrong?" Rory spoke.

Sherlock had his back to the wall again, but he heard the sound of Amy getting up, "it's nothing."

"Not getting cold feet, are you?" Rory nervously joked.

Sherlock had to restrain himself from loudly scoffing. _Look at the scarf on the bed, idiot. Your wife misses me_.

"No, no. It's not that," Amy said more confidently.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," Sherlock walked into the doorway that was directly facing Amy's bedroom once he saw that her back was facing him. Leaving now meant that he wouldn't blow his cover, and everything would stay the same – for the most part. Amy was looking in the mirror, but her eyes locked onto his. He ducked back into the living room before she could turn around to get a better look.

"Amy, you can tell me. I'm your husband," Sherlock rolled his eyes. He felt as if Rory was deliberately mocking him.

Amy gave him a kiss on the lips but didn't move from her spot, "It's just the Doctor coming back and all of that."

Why didn't Amy tell Rory about Sherlock? A newly married couple and she already lied to her husband. Great way to start a marriage. Sherlock heard the sounds of doors opening and the other two clearly heard it as well. _What now?_

"Come on!" Amy said with excitement.

The duo raced out of her room, down the stairs, and out the door, leaving Sherlock Holmes staring out the window. The Williams' stepped into a blue police box that Sherlock knew wasn't there before. What in the world were they doing in that? He waited by the window for a little longer for them to come out – the box was tiny after all – but nothing moved. So Sherlock sighed, turned his back from the window, and headed for the stairs. Before he could do so, his scarf caught his eye.

It didn't take Sherlock long to scan the room and take in every detail. She had dolls of the man that Sherlock met. Stories of him – she named him the Doctor – that told of his arrival into Amy's life when she was seven. There was even a figurine of the blue box outside sitting perched on her bedside table. This Doctor had more care and attention that Amy has ever given a man, and this was so clear in Sherlock's head that he knew that she truly moved on since the Doctor's apparent return. Sherlock didn't want to believe that he'd been replaced, but everything told him that this was true. But something was really wrong when she had his scarf on. A scarf couldn't trigger memories like that with a response so emotionally catastrophic.

Sherlock carefully took his scarf from her bed and faced her mirror. He put it on without hesitation, took a last look at her room, and headed down the stairs. Walking out the door, the doors to the police box opened and Sherlock ducked into the bushes. The girl who didn't make sense walked by Sherlock and he could see in her face and her walking stride that she was going to leave. He didn't know for how long or where she was going, but he needed to say something to her before she left.

Sherlock Holmes prepared himself. He needed to take out sentiment and his feelings in order to face her. She wouldn't love him anymore, so he wouldn't either. Questions that started with "what if?" began flooding his head, which made him even more nervous and doubtful that what he was about to do was a good idea. All these questiones stopped when the door to Amy's house opened. Amy turned around to look at her house for the last time.

It was now or never.

Sherlock Holmes emerged from the shadows and quietly walked up to her. He was just about to tap her on the shoulder, but in a blink of an eye, she was facing him. All the words he prepared to say disappeared from his mind. _Take away sentiment, Sherlock._

"Oi!" her eyes didn't focus yet.

In the moonlight Sherlock saw the striking green eyes that he thought he'd never see again.

"Hello, Amy."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**AMY**

Sherlock Holmes stood in front of her. As much as she wanted to believe her own eyes, her brain was telling her that it was impossible. But her heart – oh, her heart – was telling her differently. His voice sent chills up her spine, turned her legs to mush, and seemed to make her stomach flop. It had been years since she heard that voice and she missed it, dearly. All the memories of him returned to her just a few minutes ago, and now with Sherlock standing there, she didn't know how to process it. She was as confused as to what to do that she slapped him right in the face.

"Ow," Sherlock rubbed the left side of his face.

Suddenly, she hugged him. It caught Sherlock by surprise, and once he realized what was happening, he dug his face into her shoulder.

"Amy."

Amy was still speechless. She let go from their embrace. She raised her left hand to stroke his face, but saw her wedding ring. She took a step back. She didn't notice that tears were streaming from her eyes.

"I-I. W-What. H-how are you alive? You were dead," Amy's already porcelain skin turned even paler.

Sherlock smiled before he explained. She missed that smile. She missed him. Sherlock was explaining how he faked his death, but she wasn't listening. She remembered the night she came back to Leadworth. It was just a few days after Sherlock's funeral. She was crying on the way back home and her Aunt noticed. Amy didn't want to talk about it so she went straight to her room to cry some more. Over the next week, Amy wouldn't speak, eat, or sleep. Rory and Mels tried to comfort her, but it didn't help very much. Eventually, she'd tell the stories of the man she came to meet in London. Rory was jealous, though slightly so when he learned that he wasn't alive anymore. Then the Doctor came back for her and actually brought her with him. Everything was more or less alright again. She didn't know when began to forget about Sherlock, but it happened, even when she promised him that she wouldn't.

"Wait a minute. Why are you here? Of all the days to tell me that you're alive, why did you choose this bloody day?" Amy interrupted.

"Because it seemed like a good idea, but now I've realized that it has been a mistake," Sherlock turned away from her and faced the TARDIS. "What is that?"

"Oi, don't change the subject you moron. But it's a TARDIS. What do you mean a mistake?"

Sherlock faced her again, but his expression was different. His features softened, his eyes had this forlorn look to it, but his pupils were dilated. He needn't say anything because Amy understood. She could see it in his face that Sherlock was still in love with her.

"Oh, Sherlock," She pulled him in for another hug.

His body stiffened and he let go, "I should leave. Your husband is probably waiting for you in the … TARDIS."

Sherlock turned around and began walking away. Amy stopped him.

"Wait. Just wait a minute," she was a bit ticked off. "You come here, on my wedding day, to tell me that you still love me. What was the point of that, Sherlock? Where does that leave us?"

Amy had the right to be angry. If Sherlock didn't show up, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't be facing the man she realized she loved after he jumped from that rooftop. She would have his scarf and be on her way into time and space with the Doctor and her husband. Amy didn't want to believe it, but she was torn between the two men she truthfully cares significantly for. The men in her life, they always seem to leave, but they always come back.

Somewhere in the bottom of her heart, she wanted to run away with Sherlock and have a life with him solving crimes of all sorts. She looked beyond the consulting detective and saw the TARDIS. She couldn't bear to leave Rory, though. He waited for Amy for nearly 2,000 years. She loved that moron. She married that moron. The Doctor was a whole different story.

"Come with me," Sherlock said in an outburst.

"What?" Amy was shocked at his suggestion.

"Just for one day."

"But I'm married, Sherlock," she wanted to say yes so badly.

"Just one day. You have the rest of your life to spend with Rory," Sherlock held out his hand.

Hesitantly, she stared at his hand. _Just one day?_ Amy smiled and took his hand.

"Just one."

Sherlock grasped her hand tighter, but the moment he did, an ear splitting sound erupted from behind Amy. They both turned around to see a monstrous crack that Amy came to know so well appear across the wall of her childhood home.

**SHERLOCK**

He couldn't believe it. It wasn't as if she died or anything, but it felt like that was the situation. He just hadn't seen her in such a long time. She was there, standing in the flesh like the night that they met. The only real difference was that instead of a white blanket of snow surrounding her, it was a flowing wedding dress. Sherlock had to keep it in his mind that she was married. She was promised to someone else. That hurt.

There was a moment where they just stared at each other. Soaking in every detail gave Sherlock the chance to read her, but there was something wrong with her. This was London all over again. He knew it wasn't emotional, though. It was something far beyond that. Maybe it was about her epiphany, but Sherlock couldn't tell. Without warning, Amy slapped Sherlock.

"Ow," he rubbed his face but was a bit surprised at the strength of the slap. She'd been harbouring so much emotion that she put everything in that smack.

Seconds after, she hugged him, nearly knocking him off his feet. Regaining his posture, he dug his head into her shoulder, savouring the moment he knew would last for only a few seconds more.

"Amy."

She let go and raised her left hand to stroke his head. But the light from the police box made a gleam on her wedding ring, making her pull away. There was sadness in her eyes, but she tried her best not to show it, but who could fool Sherlock? Oh wait, she did – but just for a moment.

"I-I. W-What. H-how are you alive? You were dead," Amy looked like she saw a ghost.

Sherlock smiled in order to ease her suffering and hopefully make it seem as if everything was okay. He began explaining but noticed she wasn't listening, but rather, off in her own world. It didn't matter that she wasn't listening because it gave a chance for him to figure out the new missing link. It seemed as if she was connected to the blue police box, but he wasn't sure how. He thought of some theories about how she wanted to somehow stay close to Sherlock through working for the police – he did "work" for Lestrade. Sherlock did see a police officer's uniform peeking from her closet, though he doubted the length of the skirt was regulation sized.

"Wait a minute. Why are you here? Of all the days to tell me that you're alive, why did you choose this bloody day?" Amy interrupted.

"Because it seemed like a good idea, but now I've realized that it has been a mistake," Sherlock turned away from her and faced the TARDIS. "What is that?"

"Oi, don't change the subject you moron. But it's a TARDIS. What do you mean a mistake?" She was beginning to get irritated.

Sherlock couldn't say it out loud, so he let his face do the talking. All he had to hope for was that she'd understand and not laugh at him. He noticed that whatever the TARDIS was, it changed her significantly. He examined her face even more and realized that she aged, but in a nonconventional way. He didn't understand how she looked the same, but was older, and much wiser.

"Oh, Sherlock," She pulled him in for another hug.

The touch of her cold wedding ring to his neck made his body stiffened and he let go, "I should leave. Your husband is probably waiting for you in the … TARDIS."

Sherlock turned around slowly and began walking away. He wanted her to tell him to stop. She did.

"Wait. Just wait a minute," she was angry now. "You come here, on my wedding day, to tell me that you still love me. What was the point of that, Sherlock? Where does that leave us?"

That was odd. She spoke of a possible future together. As if there could be one.

"Come with me!" he heard himself speak, but soon regretted it.

_You're setting yourself up, Sherlock. She's obviously going to say no._

But his mouth was faster than his brain and was working overtime to make sure that he committed to the words he spoke.

"What?" Amy was shocked at his suggestion, but there was this sparkle in her eye when he said it. So far, so good.

"Just for one day."

"But I'm married, Sherlock," she looked at the TARDIS.

"Just one day. You have the rest of your life to spend with Rory," Sherlock held out his hand. _Come on, come on, come on, say yes. _

Hesitantly, she stared at his hand. He knew she wanted to take it. Her left hand was even held behind her back to make sure she didn't notice her wedding ring and change her mind. Amy smiled and took his hand.

"Just one."

Sherlock smiled and held onto her hand tighter. The moment he did, a noise erupted from behind them as if the Earth split apart. She was still holding onto his hand, but her hand was almost limp when she turned around and saw a glowing white crack spread across the wall of her home.

Amy turned around for just a second, but Sherlock saw something even worse than before his fall. It was even worse than John's horror. He thought he saw everything, but what stood in front of him was the embodiment of absolute terror.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**AMY**

"What is that?" Amy thought she heard Sherlock say, but she wasn't listening.

She was too focused on the crack that just ripped through her house. This couldn't be happening. It was impossible. It was gone.

"No, it's still. No. Doctor," Amy's mind was running faster than her mouth. "Doctor."

The crack was starting to widen, but that didn't do anything to get Amy moving. She was too fixated. Too engrossed in the impossibility that stood before her, or rather, _two _impossibilities that stood before her. Behind her, holding her shoulder was Sherlock Holmes. The man that she thought died a few years ago. The man she grieved for. The man she didn't know if she still loved.

"Doctor!" she heard herself yelling, and not a moment too soon did the doors of the TARDIS swing open.

"Amy! What's wrong?" the Doctor raced to her with Rory by his side.

Her eyes were still on the crack, "Doctor. What the hell is that doing here!?"

She was absolutely furious, but was also about to burst into tears.

"Oh. Uh," the Doctor was surprised, to say the least, but not any less scared.

The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver, and from where he was, scanned it. Rory was standing a safe distance away from the Doctor, Amy and Sherlock. He did not want to be erased again. Amy looked for Rory and went to him, holding her wedding dress in both hands. She ran into his arms, completely forgetting about Sherlock.

"How is it here? I thought you going into it solved everything," Amy turned to look at the Doctor.

The Doctor examined his screwdriver, "Amelia."

_Oh no. Not Amelia._

"We should get into the TARDIS. Now. It's clearly not the TARDIS causing this, so come on!" the Doctor turned quickly and ran to the TARDIS.

Rory ran with him, but stopped when the TARDIS started flickering. Rory tripped on something and fell flat on his face. The Doctor was still jogging towards it.

"No, no, no. What are you doing!" the Doctor was yelling.

He stopped moving when he noticed small wisps of light making its way towards the TARDIS. It got a strong hold on it, pulling it in towards the seemingly peaceful glow of the crack. It soon disappeared from existence.

The Doctor turned around to face everyone, "run."

Following his advice, Rory got up on his feet and ran. He didn't know where, but wherever the Doctor was going meant somewhere safe. Being dead was bad enough, but being erased from everything was the worst possible thing. Amy was running just a few feet behind Rory, having a bit of trouble holding her dress up. She looked back and noticed the crack encompassed her house and bled into the ground. It was growing.

"Amy!" Sherlock was yelling. "What's happening!?"

"That crack erases you from existence. You'll have never been born. You'll be forgotten," Amy stopped to catch her breath as Sherlock caught up.

Sherlock stopped and turned around. He began jogging towards the crack.

"Sherlock!" Amy was alarmed and she chased after him. "Where are you going?!"

Rory heard Sherlock's name being called, "Sherlock? What?"

Rory turned around to see the man his wife use to talk about. He was running towards the crack, but that didn't exactly bother him. It was the fact that Amy was following him.

"Amy!" Rory yelled and sprinted towards her. "STOP!"

The Doctor heard all of the commotion, and his eyes went wide. He thought he felt both his hearts stop. His friends – and a complete stranger – were about to commit suicide and then forgotten by the world.

Sherlock stood at the very beginning of the crack.

"Don't you dare!" Amy yelled, finally catching up with him. He was going to do this twice to her.

She stood a few feet away from him, terrified of the power of the crack. Rory stood just a few feet away from her, even more scared.

"Amy, come with me. Please," Rory was begging.

"This is good. You'll forget about me. You'll have a life with your husband. The world will forget about Sherlock Holmes. John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson can move on. It all works out for the best. Don't you see?" Sherlock turned around to look at Amy, but could only manage looking at her feet.

"I'll bring you back. I've brought the Doctor back. So I can bring you back too. I don't want to forget you, again."

"Again. So you have. Even when you promised."

Amy felt as if her heart cracked, "I will remember. I always remember."

"Not this time," Sherlock faced the crack again. "You can't stop me. Because if you do, you'll be sucked into this crack. Forgotten. And no one will remember you."

She couldn't believe him. All this was happening because she got married. Amy had an idea. It was a long shot, but since he was going...

"Rory, just. One kiss, and I'll come with you. Okay?" Amy looked at Rory.

Rory looked defeated, but he nodded. Anything to get his wife to come back to him. The Doctor was looking on in hopes that she'd step away from the crack. He already lost his TARDIS, he couldn't bear to lose the girl that waited all night in her garden for him. Amy found herself walking towards him and grabbing his hand before he could disappear. She placed her hand gently on his neck. She pulled him in for one last kiss. His lips were just like how she remembered it.

"AMY!" Rory screamed.

But before she could look at her husband and the Doctor, she found herself holding onto Sherlock as the crack engulfed them both.

**SHERLOCK**

"What is that?" Sherlock asked her as he stared at the crack.

It was terrifying, but he found himself strangely attracted to it. There was a warm glow to it, one that was trying to suck him in, but Amy's face told him to stay as far away as possible.

"No, it's still. No. Doctor," Amy was saying random words that Sherlock didn't understand how it would help the situation. "Doctor."

Sherlock noticed that the crack began to widen. It was a slow process, but it was happening. He ruled out the impossible once it happened, so all he really needed to quell his curiosity was if someone would tell him what the hell was going on. Amy stood there, just staring at it – he wasn't sure if she was in awe or shock. He took her shoulder in order to get her attention, but she didn't budge. She kept on staring, forgetting about the rest of the world around her.

"Doctor!" she called for her magic man.

"Amy! What's wrong?" the Doctor raced past Sherlock to get to her.

Rory stopped a distance away from them - obviously even more scared than the two. But why? What was it about this crack that made everyone shake with fear? Sherlock Holmes made some minute observations about the man Amy married. Still, he didn't understand why Amy chose him.

"Doctor. What the hell is that doing here?!"

He could hear the anger in her voice. But it wavered when she finished the sentence. The Doctor took out some sort of wand like instrument from his pocket. It popped open – Sherlock realized the connection between this and Amy's cell phone – and emitted a green light from the top. He began waving it around. Sherlock was just staring, trying to understand why this man, who was old, acted like a child. Sherlock saw Amy looking for her husband, and when she caught sight of him, she ran into his open arms. Embracing her the way Sherlock wanted to, but couldn't. Sherlock's heart began to crack. She's forgetting all about him.

"How is it here? I thought you going into it solved everything," Amy let go of Rory to look at the Doctor.

"Amelia. We should get into the TARDIS. Now. It's clearly not the TARDIS causing this, so come on!"

The Doctor and Rory ran in tandem while Amy tried to catch up. Sherlock tried his best to catch up, finding himself fighting the temptation of looking at the light.

"No, no, no. What are you doing!" the Doctor was yelling.

Sherlock saw the Doctor trying to go after his TARDIS, but he stopped moving once he saw strands of light from the crack catch a hold on the police box. Somehow, it disappeared from existence when it entered the crack.

The Doctor turned around to face everyone, "run."

They all ran, with Amy running just a few feet behind Rory, and Rory running a few feet behind the Doctor. She looked back. Sherlock noticed the crack grew at an enormous rate. It made the house disappear.

"Amy!" Sherlock yelled. "What's happening?!"

"That crack erases you from existence. You'll have never been born. You'll be forgotten," Amy stopped to catch her breath as Sherlock caught up.

Sherlock stopped and turned around. Forgotten? That sounded like a good idea. He began jogging towards the crack.

"Sherlock!" Amy yelled, chasing after him. "Where are you going?!"

"Amy!" Rory yelled and sprinted towards her. "STOP!"

Sherlock stood at the very beginning of the crack. He looked in it, but nothing was there. Nothing. Something that he knew he would be in Amy's life with Rory. He wanted her to move on, he wanted the whole world to move on, and the only way to do that was if the world had never heard of Sherlock Holmes. There was something about him that made his closest friends feel utter heartbreak when he died, and he didn't understand why, especially being his cold-natured self. He didn't want them to hurt anymore. He didn't want Amy to hurt. She said she wasn't sure if it'd ever stop hurting, so this was going to be the way to do it.

"Don't you dare!" Amy yelled from a few feet away.

"Amy, come with me. Please," Rory was begging.

"This is good. You'll forget about me. You'll have a life with your husband. The world will forget about Sherlock Holmes. John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson can move on. It all works out for the best. Don't you see?" Sherlock turned around to look at Amy, but could only manage looking at her feet. He couldn't bear to see the hurt in her eyes. But soon, he wouldn't.

"I'll bring you back. I've brought the Doctor back. So I can bring you back too. I don't want to forget you, again."

"Again. So you have. Even when you promised."

"I will remember. I always remember."

"Not this time," Sherlock faced the crack again. "You can't stop me. Because if you do, you'll be sucked into this crack. Forgotten. And no one will remember you."

Sherlock tried to make her angry. There was no way that she was going to avoid the inevitable. What he was going to do wasn't only for her, but for him. He can't have Amy.

"Rory, just. One kiss, and I'll come with you. Okay?" Amy looked at Rory.

Amy walked towards him and held his hand before he could disappear. She placed her hand gently on his neck. She pulled him in for one last kiss. Her lips were just like how he remembered it.

"AMY!" Rory screamed.

Sherlock opened his eyes to see the crack overhead and around Amy and him. The strands of light entwining their bodies, squishing the both of them together. A quick look behind revealed that the crack was closing faster and the gap between being forgotten and remembered remained only long enough to see the horrified faces of Rory and the Doctor.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**AMY**

The light disappeared around them and the crack looked as if it was gone. Oddly enough, they were still in the exact same spot by Amy's house. Sherlock and Amy were still with each other, but just a few feet away from Rory and the Doctor.

"RORY!" she yelled.

Rory didn't hear her.

"Doctor. Why can I still remember her?" Rory asked the Doctor. He was still in the spot where she disappeared.

"Something's wrong. Terribly wrong," the Doctor scanned the area with his screwdriver.

He read it and his eyes widened, "Amy?"

He was looking off into the distance, but Amy heard.

"Doctor! Over here!" Amy waved her arms as she held onto Sherlock's hand and ran towards him.

"Amy?" he was still looking in the opposite direction.

"DOCTOR!" she yelled.

Amy and Sherlock stood face to face with Rory and the Doctor. But Rory and the Doctor's faces were still searching for Amy and Sherlock.

"Where are they?" Rory asked the Doctor.

Sherlock raised his arms to touch the Doctor's tweed coat, but his hand went through his body. Amy tried to stroke Rory's face, but it only went through.

"I know that wasn't an ordinary crack, Rory. It took the TARDIS. Amy, she's still here. She's not dead. She's not really gone."

"What do you mean?"

"If you can remember her, then something is more than just wrong. Something has gone wibbly wobbly with the universe. She's not dead. But you don't need to be dead to be sucked into the crack. Something has caused that crack, and it took her with it, sealing it."

"Rory. Doctor. Why can't you hear me?" Amy was desperate. Rory and the Doctor were still talking.

"She's still here. She's around us. Listening in to our conversation. We just can't hear her."

"Why? Amy?"

"She must be in the space between spaces. And the space in between those spaces. Dimensions, Rory. Where we can't see her, but she's there. And she's there with that man. He can probably see us too."

All of a sudden, Rory got enraged, "Sherlock. You stay the hell away from my wife. I swear to God if you touch her..."

"Calm yourself, Rory. She can handle herself maturely," the Doctor turned away from Rory. "I hope."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and Amy smacked him in the arm for doing so. Amy heard a familiar noise behind her. Turning around, she saw the TARDIS.

"Oh my god," Amy said aloud.

Amy turned around to get Sherlock. He was making faces at Rory. She rolled her eyes and dragged him towards the police box.

"What, are we going to phone the police?" he asked mockingly.

"You're going to eat your words, Sherlock," Amy smiled as she opened the doors.

Amy stepped in, leaving Sherlock in awe at the enormity of the TARDIS. She felt a sort of pride running through her veins. She didn't own the TARDIS, but just seeing someone she cared deeply about feel the way she felt the moment she stepped in the first time was heart-warming.

"Okay, I've watched the Doctor do this a million times," Amy said. "I think I'll be able to fly this thing."

Amy followed his exact steps on getting the TARDIS in flight, but nothing moved.

"Come on, Sexy. I want to get back to the Doctor as much as you do, but you got to work with me here," Amy spoke to the TARDIS with hopes that she'd listen.

Just like that, the TARDIS whirred to life. She didn't know what coordinates to enter in. If she were in, like the Doctor said, the space between spaces, how could she possibly know how to travel through dimensions? Letting the TARDIS take care of most of it, the only thing Amy had to do were push buttons, pull levers, and turn a few wheels. Sherlock looked on in awe at the girl who still didn't make any sense.

"Time travel. Not so complicated," she smirked at a still-shocked Sherlock.

The sound of the TARDIS landing caught them both by surprise. Amy walked to the door, waving Sherlock to follow her. She opened the door, but they did not expect to be where they were.

"London?" they both said in unison.

**SHERLOCK**

The crack was gone. And Sherlock mistakenly took Amy with him. Did it work, though? Was he forgotten? Sherlock didn't understand the aspects of all of it, so he wasn't quite sure what was going on, nor why they were still in Leadworth. Rory and the Doctor were still in the same places they stood before, only they both looked incredibly confused rather than sad or angry.

"RORY!" Amy yelled at him when she saw where they were.

Rory didn't turn around. Sherlock and Amy began walking closer to them, and they each caught what the Doctor and Rory were saying.

"Doctor. Why can I still remember her?" Rory asked the Doctor.

"Something's wrong. Terribly wrong," the Doctor scanned the area with his wand like device again.

He examined it as if he was reading it. He looked up and around the area, "Amy?"

"Doctor! Over here!" Amy waved her arms as they began to run towards them.

"Amy?" he was still looking in the opposite direction.

"DOCTOR!" she yelled.

Amy and Sherlock stood just inches apart from the other two, but there were the same blank looks on the faces of Rory and the Doctor. _What is going on? Why can't they see us?_

"Where are they?" Rory asked the Doctor.

Sherlock raised his arms to touch the Doctor's tweed coat, but his hand went through his body. He tried again, but the same thing happened. _Am I dead?_ Amy tried to stroke Rory's face, but it only went through.

"I know that wasn't an ordinary crack, Rory. It took the TARDIS. Amy, she's still here. She's not dead. She's not really gone," the Doctor looked as if he figured it out, but Sherlock was nowhere close.

"What do you mean?"

"If you can remember her, then something is more than just wrong. Something has gone wibbly wobbly with the universe. She's not dead. But you don't need to be to be sucked into the crack. Something has caused that crack, and it took her with it, sealing it."

All of this knowledge was far beyond what Sherlock could comprehend. The only thing he knew was true was that this, the Doctor, the wand thingy, and the TARDIS, had to be alien.

"Rory. Doctor. Why can't you hear me?" Amy was desperate for her husband to acknowledge her somehow. Rory and the Doctor were still talking.

"She's still here. She's around us. Listening in to our conversation. We just can't hear her."

"Why? Amy?"

"She must be in the space between spaces. And the space in between those spaces. Dimensions, Rory. Where we can't see her, but she's there. And she's there with that man. He can probably see us too."

The level of anger rose in Rory, "Sherlock. You stay the hell away from my wife. I swear to God if you touch her..."

"Calm yourself, Rory. She can handle herself maturely," the Doctor turned away from Rory. "I hope."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and Amy smacked him for doing so. He began making faces at Rory and pushing his limbs through Rory's body to see if he felt anything. Amy turned around.

"Oh my god," Amy said aloud.

Amy got a hold of Sherlock and dragged him towards the police box.

"What, are we going to phone the police?" he asked mockingly.

"You're going to eat your words, Sherlock," Amy said as she opened the doors.

Amy waltzed in, leaving Sherlock in shock at what was inside. _It's bigger in the inside. So much bigger._ He couldn't believe it. Though, he should have expected something like that to happen considering what happened just minutes ago.

"Okay, I've watched the Doctor do this a million times," Amy said. "I think I'll be able to fly this thing."

_It flies?_

Amy walked around the console as he walked up the steps. She began twirling around, pressing buttons, pulling levers, and all sorts of complicated jumbo, but nothing seemed to move.

"Come on, Sexy. I want to get back to the Doctor as much as you do, but you got to work with me here," Sherlock stared at Amy.

As if the TARDIS was listening, it came to life. It was quite obvious to Sherlock that whatever happened in between his fake death and now really changed Amy. She spent her time doing … whatever this was.

"Time travel. Not so complicated," she smirked.

Time travel? Looking back at the Doctor and Amy, he realized that the Doctor caused her a lot of pain and suffering when she waited for him. The Doctor probably took a trip that was far too long, leaving Amy in a rut and gallivanting to London. The sound of the police box landing nearly swept Sherlock off his feet. Amy took the lead and with Sherlock just seconds behind she opened the door.

"London?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**AMY**

"What in the world are we doing in London?" Amy turned around to go back to the console.

Amy walked up to the screen and played with the dials to get some information on where they were exactly and what time. Sherlock was still standing by the entrance.

"Well. We're in London, alright. Wait," Amy looked closer. "Sherlock."

He came over when he heard the undertone of desperation in her voice, "What is it? Do you know why we're here?"

"I don't know. It's giving me a date that should have some importance. The TARDIS wouldn't bring us here otherwise," she swung the screen over to him.

She saw a change in his face, "it's exactly a month after my suicide."

He swung the monitor back around, and it hit the stopper with a clunk. Amy closed her eyes and remembered the sound of his body hitting the ground. She shook the memory away.

"Why are we here?"

"I don't know. But we should just check it out," Amy walked out the door.

They were right on Baker Street, which was convenient for both of them. To Amy, everything looked exactly the same. They walked up the steps to the flat and saw that John moved out. The sound of someone moving about downstairs made Sherlock and Amy race down the stairs, with Amy just about tripping over her wedding dress and bumping into Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson was dressed quite formally and she was looking for her keys when a taxi came up.

"Mrs. Hudson, where's John?" Sherlock absent mindedly asked.

"She can't hear you. No one can hear us," Amy reminded him.

Amy was right, and Mrs. Hudson walked out the door. Inside the cab, John waited, looking away from the apartment. Sherlock and Amy jumped into the cab, with Amy sitting in between John and Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock sitting up front.

"He looks so sad. So heartbroken. Like me," Amy said, noticing the facial expression of John.

"He's going to see his friend's grave, of course he's sad," Sherlock didn't turn around.

"I wish I dressed more appropriately," Amy muttered to herself, playing with the folds of her dress.

Soon enough, they arrived at the cemetery. Sherlock wanted to wait in the car, but Amy convinced him that he should see this. They began walking to the tombstone, but Amy noticed a man in a black coat in the distance. She knew that figure anywhere.

"Sherlock. Is that you?" She asked him as they walked behind John and Mrs. Hudson.

"Yes."

Amy walked towards the other Sherlock. He stood there incognito from everyone. His face was stoic. No emotion at all.

"Sherlock," she said out loud.

He moved his gaze a few inches down, and it was as if they were looking into each other's eyes. It spooked Amy for a moment, but he looked back up again. He didn't see her. It was just chance that made him look down. She didn't realize she stood there for so long, just staring at the cold man, and looked behind at the grave.

Sherlock was sitting on his tombstone as John was talking to it. Finally, Sherlock stood up and John walked away. Amy quickly walked down to where Sherlock was.

"Well?"

"I told you I didn't need to see that," Sherlock was angry, but there was underlying sadness to the tone of his voice that made Amy wonder what John said.

"Why did we come here?" Sherlock asked.

"It's the TARDIS. What did John say?"

"He begged me not to be dead. For me to stop his torment."

"You needed to hear that. I mean, how long were you going to leave us in the dark? You had to know that John and I, we," Amy stopped, she didn't know how to word it correctly.

"What?"

"There are things that a person can feel when someone near and dear to them dies. But when it lasts for so long, it just leaves misery. And it never goes away. John. He feels that everyday. I felt that," Amy wasn't looking at Sherlock. "You have to tell him. Tell him you're alive."

Sherlock huffed and trudged towards John, "he can't even see me. How am I supposed to tell him? The TARDIS can't even get us to the right place!"

"Well we'll have to try. We'll try until we get it right."

"And what if that never happens, Amy? We'll be stuck in this limbo for eternity."

They sat down on the park bench by his gravestone for a little while. Maybe to think, maybe to watch the time go by. They weren't in a rush and they had a time machine. Amy laid her head on his shoulder and he held out his hand. She took it. They were like a real couple. The other Sherlock left eventually. After a while, Mycroft showed up bearing sunflowers. Odd choice, even for Mycroft.

"Sunflowers? They're not my favorite flower," Sherlock scoffed.

"That's what van Gogh said," Amy laughed.

"Vincent van Gogh?" Sherlock turned to look at Amy.

"Long story," she smiled.

When they looked back at Sherlock's grave, a woman stood there placing a black rose – as dark as her mini skirt – on his stone. She brushed her flaming red hair away from her face and wiped the tears from her eyes. The Amy sitting beside Sherlock Holmes began to watch the day she visited his grave.

**SHERLOCK**

Amy was speaking, but Sherlock wasn't listening. They were in London. Noticing the newspapers in the stands, he realized what day it was before Amy could call him over.

"It's exactly a month after my suicide. Why are we here?" Sherlock was exasperated.

"I don't know. But we should just check it out," Amy walked out the door.

They were on Baker Street. To Sherlock, everything looked as if something changed. They walked up the steps to the flat. John's items and possessions were gone. He'd moved out. Most likely from the grief. Sherlock heard the obvious footsteps of Mrs. Hudson downstairs, and he raced downstairs to see her. Amy needed his support so that she wouldn't trip. The first word that popped into his mind when he saw his former landlady: funeral.

"Mrs. Hudson, where's John?" Sherlock absent mindedly asked. He'd been under her roof for so long, that any sight of her would prompt him to say something.

"She can't hear you. No one can hear us," Amy reminded him.

Amy was right, of course, and Mrs. Hudson walked out the door. A cab pulled up, and inside John waited, looking away from the apartment. Still mourning his dead friend. Unable to look at the flat that he shared with Sherlock. Sherlock and Amy got into the cab.

"He looks so sad. So heartbroken. Like me," Amy said.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. Why did she say "like me?" Was she still heartbroken? She could have said it in the past tense, but she didn't.

"He's going to see his friend's grave, of course he's sad," Sherlock didn't turn around. He didn't want to see his friend hurting. Admittedly, this was also the reason why he didn't want to get out of the taxi. Amy convinced him to. They began walking towards the grave when Amy managed to spot the other Sherlock from afar.

"Sherlock, is that you?"

"Yes," he responded, sending her wandering towards him.

When John and Mrs. Hudson stopped at the foot of the gravesite, Sherlock walked over it and sat on the right edge of his tombstone. A little while later, Mrs. Hudson left, leaving John. Sherlock dreaded what he would hear, not because he was scared of whatever insults John may hurl at him, but the sadness in his voice. It was true, John was his friend. A legitimate friend. And he had to bury Sherlock.

"You, you told me once," John cleared his throat. "That you weren't a hero. Um. There were times where I didn't think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man, and the most human, human being that I've ever known, and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. And so, there."

John walked over to the gravestone. The dark, sleek color was representative of Sherlock. He began to touch the left side of the stone. John didn't know it, but he was side by side with Sherlock.

"I was so alone, and I owe you so much," John was getting choked up. "Please, there's just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me."

Sherlock stood up and tried to walk away before John could continue.

"Don't be dead."

Sherlock stopped in his tracks. Clearly, John was having a hard time with this, and Sherlock couldn't bear to see it any longer.

"Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it, stop this," John covered his face with his hand as he stood at the foot of his grave.

Sherlock wanted to comfort his friend, but with his hand going through John's body, there wasn't much comfort to give. John took a breath in and took a turn as if he were back in the army.

"I will," Sherlock said, but John would never hear it.

Sherlock looked on as the other Sherlock from afar was watching John walk away from the grave. He remembered watching John, but because he could only see his back, he didn't hear anything of what John said. Only the movements were understood. Afterwards Amy came over.

"Well?" Amy caught her breath.

"I told you I didn't need to see that," Sherlock wished Moriarty stayed true with his word and burned the heart out of him. He didn't need what he was feeling right now. "Why did we come here?"

"It's the TARDIS. What did John say?"

"He begged me not to be dead. For me to stop his torment," it was hard for Sherlock to say that out loud.

"You needed to hear that. I mean, how long were you going to leave us in the dark? You had to know that John and I, we," Amy stopped.

"What?"

"There are things that a person can feel when someone near and dear to them dies. But when it lasts for so long, it just leaves misery. And it never goes away. John. He feels that every day. I felt that," Amy wasn't looking at Sherlock. "You have to tell him. Tell him you're alive."

He knew that, obviously, that he'd cause those feelings, but he didn't realize how long it would last. Sherlock went towards John, "he can't even see me. How am I supposed to tell him? The TARDIS can't even get us to the right place."

"Well we'll have to try. We'll try until we get it right."

"And what if that never happens, Amy? We'll be stuck in this limbo for eternity."

With nothing more to say, they sat down on the park bench by his gravestone for a little while. Just to relax. Amy placed her head on his shoulder and she took his hand. If this was what being Amy was like, he enjoyed it and didn't want it to end. He didn't mind the calm. He didn't need the game. The sight of Mycroft carrying sunflowers to Sherlock's grave made his eyebrow go up.

"Sunflowers? They're not my favorite flower," Sherlock scoffed.

"That's what van Gogh said," Amy laughed.

"Vincent van Gogh?" Sherlock turned to look at Amy. She met van Gogh?

"Long story," she smiled. He definitely wanted to hear that.

A familiar scent in the air made Sherlock curious. He turned his head nearly 180 degrees and saw the red haired woman at his grave. Amy Pond came to say her final goodbyes.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**AMY**

Why couldn't she remember that she visited his grave? She closed her eyes to focus on the day, but nothing came to mind. She was straining herself to remember. Amy rose from her seat and picked her wedding dress up. A few steps in and she already could hear the sadness in the voice coming from Sherlock's grave.

"Oh, God. Why, Sherlock?" Amy heard the other Amy say.

Amy dropped her wedding dress and supported herself using the grave stone. She watched as the younger Amy, dressed in black, wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Is that what I really look like?" Amy checked herself out. "Not too shabby."

"I'm still angry. Still hurt. Why can't you be alive to see what you've done for me? For John. There's no one like you, and there will never be anyone like you. I think I love you, for God's sake."

"Whoa. Did I just say that?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, you did," Sherlock sneakily came up from behind her, startling Amy.

"Why don't I remember coming here?" Amy asked Sherlock as the other Amy kept talking to the grave.

"How should I know?"

"You know, I wanted to move on. But you, you idiot, keep me coming back to those memories. Everything reminds me of you," Amy turned around to leave, but she had more to say. "People have been talking. None of it is about you. They've forgotten Sherlock. They've forgotten about the consulting detective. Except for me, John, Mrs. Hudson. The world has gone wrong. Why aren't you here to fix it?"

"Are you talking about me?" Sherlock asked all of a sudden.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm talking about you, moron," she scoffed.

But was she? To her ears, it sounded a little like she was talking about the Doctor. She remembered when she saw Sherlock on the rooftop and how she made the connection between the Doctor and Sherlock, but it became more apparent when she began to watch herself speak.

"You speak as if I'm a hero, but I'm not," Sherlock interrupted her train of thought.

"What?"

"Just don't put me on a pedestal, Amy. I'm not that person," Sherlock told her.

"But you are," Amy said softly.

The other Amy left after just looking at the grave for a little longer. The Amy in white wasn't sure where the Amy in black was going, but she didn't care. She cared that she forgot. It wasn't something that typically happened. If she forgot, she would remember eventually. Bringing back the Doctor and her memories of Sherlock was easier than the scenario she was facing now.

"Do you think we should head back now?" Sherlock said. "To the TARDIS?"

"Yeah. Yeah," she said, rubbing her head.

With no real way of actually contacting a cab, they would jump from taxi to taxi in order to get back to Baker Street. Inside the TARDIS, Amy changed out of her wedding dress and into more appropriate attire – a mini and a jumper. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but laughed.

"So what was the point of this, then?" Sherlock asked, sitting on the chair by the console.

"I don't know," Amy replied.

She began typing on the typewriter and pushing some buttons, "Take me back to Leadworth."

The TARDIS came to life. Sherlock and Amy held on while the police box piloted itself towards some unknown destination. When it landed, Amy was sure that they were back in Leadworth. So much so that she raced to the doorway of the time machine.

"Are you coming?"

Sherlock was looking at the screen, but she couldn't see his face, "Yeah."

She opened the doors to see that she was on a rooftop. Amy went back inside to the TARDIS.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"We're still in London," Sherlock replied glumly.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

Amy went outside again, but this time around the corner to get a better view of the skyline. Sherlock was right, they were in London, but what he failed to mention was that they were on the rooftop of one St. Bartholomew's hospital on the day of Sherlock's suicide. She stood on the far side looking on at the man in the black coat and blue scarf standing on the edge of the roof.

S**HERLOCK**

Why hadn't Amy mentioned this earlier? Was this her plan? To have Sherlock listen to what she was going to say? Sherlock looked at the Amy in the wedding dress. No, she'd forgotten she came here. She got up and went over to the grave and he followed her silently.

"I'm still angry. Still hurt. Why can't you be alive to see what you've done for me? For John. There's no one like you, and there will never be anyone like you. I think I love you, for God's sake," the Amy at his grave said.

"Whoa. Did I just say that?" The Amy standing in front of Sherlock was surprised.

"Yes, you did," Sherlock startled Amy.

"Why don't I remember coming here?"

"How should I know?"

"You, know, I wanted to move on. But you, you idiot, keep me coming back to those memories. Everything reminds me of you," Amy turned around to leave, but she had more to say. "People have been talking. None of it is about you. They've forgotten Sherlock. They've forgotten about the consulting detective. Except for me, John, Mrs. Hudson. The world has gone wrong. Why aren't you here to fix it?"

Sherlock looked back and forth at the Amy in white, and the Amy in black, "are you talking about me?"

He didn't know why, but he felt as if she was talking about him and another person. Maybe someone like the Doctor.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm talking about you, moron," she scoffed, but he heard a bit of doubt.

"You speak as if I'm a hero, but I'm not," Sherlock said to her like the time he told John.

"What?" She looked at him.

"Just don't put me on a pedestal, Amy. I'm not that person," Sherlock told her. He didn't want to be seen as a hero. Heroes saved people out of moral conscience, were always the good guys, and knew what was right versus wrong. Sometimes Sherlock saw himself as the bad guy. Able to stoop to Moriarty's level. Sherlock played the game to win, not to help people. His definition of a hero was not the same as Amy's.

"But you are," Amy thought she said soft enough for him not to hear, but he did.

Sherlock examined the Amy at the foot of his grave. She had dark circles under her already bloodshot eyes. Crying and lack of sleep. From the looks of it, she'd arrived in London only the day before, probably wanting to avoid having to catch up with John, or even to just avoid London altogether, but she needed to come. She wasn't going to visit anymore after this – Sherlock could see it in her posture and the way she walked back to the main road.

Looking at the Amy standing beside him, he noticed that she was straining herself. She was still trying so desperately to remember that she came here. He wasn't sure whether he should be sad she forgot, or worried that she did. Her grip on her wedding dress told Sherlock that even though she was trying hard to remember, nothing was coming to mind. Amy eventually gave up at her fruitless attempt.

"Do you think we should head back now?" Sherlock asked her once he saw she'd given up. "To the TARDIS?"

"Yeah. Yeah," she said, rubbing her head.

While Amy changed, Sherlock was forcing himself not to touch anything. None of this was made on Earth, so anything could go wrong if he flipped a random switch or played with a random lever. He was still amazed at everything and how Amy became involved with a time travelling alien. He still didn't understand why it was called a police box, but he let that slide. He began to think about the crack again. How Rory stood so far, coupled with the intense looks of fear from Amy and her Doctor. He wondered how the crack worked, and why the Doctor said he thought it was caused by the box they were in, but that this time it wasn't. He remembered Amy telling him that it erases people. Makes people forget. Could that have happened with her memories? He didn't realize he was just opening the doors to his mind palace when Amy stepped into the picture with her mini skirt and jumper. Sherlock made it obvious to roll his eyes.

"So what was the point of this, then?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know," Amy replied.

She began typing on the typewriter and pushing some buttons, "Take me back to Leadworth."

Something weird in her wording stuck out in Sherlock's mind. Her choice of words since they met in her backyard has been a little off, and now Sherlock began to wonder. While the TARDIS flew through time and space, Sherlock thought about this new dilemma. When it landed, Amy ran to the doorway of the time machine.

"Are you coming?" Amy broke his train of thought.

Sherlock was facing the screen when she asked, and the location and date popped up. He turned pale, "Yeah."

She opened the doors, but came back inside, "Where are we?"

"We're still in London," Sherlock replied glumly, still hiding his face behind the monitor.

"Are you sure?"

"Quite."

Amy went outside again, and he soon regretted not telling her to stay inside the time machine. He could have said no, they weren't in London. He could have said that this was the wrong place, but he didn't. And now she was going to watch him jump to his death for the second time.

* * *

_Holy moly! 20 chapters? Only 4 more chapters left till the end of this story! Thanks again for reading! _


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**AMY**

She ran to the man standing on the ledge.

"Someone left you, didn't they?" Amy was watching Sherlock speak to, well, her.

"Yes," Amy could hear the voice through the phone.

Amy Pond looked over the edge to see herself stand beside John. It was a terrifying drop, and she couldn't believe that he managed to survive. She watched herself. Her hair blowing gently in the wind, obscuring her face only a bit so to not show the tears welling up in her eyes. She remembered standing there. That's where her nightmare always began. There was a moment of silence between them. Amy Pond looked at Sherlock. He himself was tearing up.

"Was it worth it?"

"What?"

"Meeting me."

"Of course it was."

Going into a flashback mode, she remembered the Doctor saying this to her before he propelled himself into the exploding TARDIS. Amy had difficulty breathing. The similarities between the Doctor and Sherlock were uncanny. She stepped down from the ledge. Amy could handle seeing this again, but it was only because Sherlock was in the TARDIS waiting for her.

"I'm sorry, Amy. Tell John, too. Good bye."

There was a sharp pain in her heart when he said it. She thought she could handle at least seeing him jump, but when he said that, something just broke down inside. She turned around to look at Sherlock again, and she saw that he closed his eyes. What was he thinking of? She placed her hand on his back, just begging that he'd feel something. Comfort, warmth, anything. Finally, his arms rose from his sides and he stepped off the ledge. Thump. Amy looked over the ledge for the last time, seeing John rush over to the body, and her just standing there. Immobile.

"Seen enough?" Sherlock was apparently behind her and gave her a fright, so much so that she herself almost fell off the edge.

Sherlock was fast enough to catch her before she plummeted to the ground.

"God, thanks," Amy caught her breath.

If she fell, it wouldn't be fake.

"Yeah. Uh, no problem. Sorry about scaring you. Should we get off the, uh, roof?" Sherlock stammered.

She nodded and they walked over Moriarty's body to get to the TARDIS. Sherlock took off his jacket and put it on the chair.

"I've been meaning to ask, but how did you get your coat back?" Amy asked, trying to avoid talking about her near death experience.

"Snuck in the flat and got it from John's trunk."

"Didn't he notice that it was gone?"

"He hasn't even looked in that trunk once since the fall."

"Oh."

"I'm surprised. Only we three know about that trunk. He keeps all the keepsakes from the war in there and never tells many people about it. Not even Mrs. Hudson."

"Well we are friends," Amy looked down. "Were."

She placed her hand on her face and scratched her cheek, trying to conceal the guilt on her face for not talking to John in a very long time. She changed the subject.

"What were you thinking about before you jumped off?"

"Hmm?" he wasn't focused on her.

"You closed your eyes and then you jumped. You must have been thinking of something."

"Oh, uh," Sherlock hesitated. "You."

She smiled. She was his "last" thought. Still cared about, even seconds before death.

"You know, you never answered _my_ question."

"What question?" She was grateful he changed the subject.

"Remember the night in the cab?" of course she did. "What was your interest in me?"

She remembered him asking her, but she never answered because at the time, she didn't know. But now she did.

"Well?"

"Well. You, sort of, remind me, in a way of the, um, Doctor."

"The Doctor?"

"Yes," she sighed and began twiddling with the console of the TARDIS. She was ready for a different place than London. Or at least a change in scenery. She didn't want to be in places that gave her sad memories.

"How?"

"It's complicated."

The TARDIS whirred to life all of a sudden and brought them to another place. The only problem was that it kept landing somewhere in London. Somewhere in Sherlock and Amy's time stream. Amy was getting extremely confused. Why London? The TARDIS could literally bring them to the edge of the universe, but it kept choosing London. Something wasn't right.

**SHERLOCK**

He didn't need to watch himself fall. He already knew the plotline. So he stood in the TARDIS wondering what was wrong with Amy. It was still her choice of words that bothered him. _Take me back to Leadworth. _He wanted to go back too, so why didn't she say "us?" Sherlock was getting so hung up over her words that he didn't even realize that she was still on the roof. He assumed that the moment she'd see him again leaning on the edge that she'd want to come back to the TARDIS.

Sherlock grabbed his coat and put it on. He remembered it was quite chilly outside. Amy was looking over the edge, which meant that the other Sherlock already jumped. He quietly made his way to her, walking through Moriarty's body.

"Seen enough?" Sherlock startled her which made her lose her balance.

Sherlock took her hand and pulled her into him before she went over the roof.

"Oh God, thanks," Amy said, looking over the edge again.

He realized that he could have killed her. They weren't in any sort of danger and he could have caused the death of Amy Pond.

"Yeah. Uh, no problem. Sorry about scaring you. Should we get off the, uh, roof?" Sherlock stammered.

_I almost killed her._ _Oh, God._

Amy Pond might have travelled to different times and places in space where there were all kinds of danger, but she almost pummelled to her death right in front of Sherlock. Was she safe around him? It didn't seem like anyone was really safe around the consulting detective. Look where it got John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade! Three assassins after them and it was all because of Sherlock.

Amy nodded and they walked back to the TARDIS. She didn't realize she was still holding onto Sherlock. He took off his jacket a bit too dramatically and placed it on his chair.

"I've been meaning to ask, but how did you get your coat back?" Amy asked.

"Snuck in the flat and got it from John's trunk," Sherlock remembered that night. It wasn't so easy seeing that John couldn't get to sleep most nights.

"Didn't he notice that it was gone?"

"He hasn't even looked in that trunk once since the fall," or so his informants tell him.

"Oh."

"I'm surprised. Only we three know about that trunk. He keeps all the keepsakes from the war in there and never tells many people about it. Not even Mrs. Hudson."

"Well we are friends," Amy looked down. "Were."

Amy tried to cover her face with her hand in order to conceal some guilt, but Sherlock caught it. All these feelings she had, he did his best to avoid. She changed the subject.

"What were you thinking about before you jumped off?"

"Hmm?" he didn't hear what she said.

"You closed your eyes and then you jumped. You must have been thinking of something."

"Oh, uh," Sherlock hesitated. Should he tell her? "You."

She smiled.

"You know, you never answered _my_ question," Sherlock tried to divert the subject so as to avoid an awkward silence.

"What question?"

"Remember the night in the cab? What was your interest in me?"

Amy thought about it for a moment. Probably trying to piece together the memory or even words to respond to his question. Sherlock expected a long explanation.

"Well?"

"Well. You, sort of, remind me, in a way of the, um, Doctor."

"The Doctor?" That was it? Just that?

"Yes," she sighed and began twiddling with the console of the TARDIS.

"How?"

"It's complicated."

He began to compare himself to the Doctor. She waited for them both. They both returned at one point. She sees them as heroes. She sees them as two men who are emotionally complex. Both intelligent. Both a little mad. But always there for her. And she was always there for them, even if she didn't really know the two. She placed a lot a trust into both of them. There was more, but the TARDIS jolted, which meant take off for Sherlock.

Sherlock knew that Amy hoped to see some far away land of any sort, but he knew that it was going to be London. Even though he didn't know the logistics of time travel, he had to assume that if a place was chosen twice in one day, then it would continue to be that one place until something extraordinary changed. Amy whacked the monitor to get a better reading of where they were. She tried again to get the TARDIS to some place different. But it was London, and it would continue to be London unless they figured out some way to get out of the space within spaces and back to Leadworth.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

**AMY**

"Tell me, Amy, how many days has it been?" Sherlock asked her.

Being in a time machine constantly travelling to different parts in time would always make it difficult for her to tell. She got better at it when she travelled with the Doctor, but she would sometimes get it wrong – either being over a couple days to a couple of months.

"About a week?" Amy calculated the days in her head.

"A week?" Sherlock was surprised. "Are you sure?"

"No, but doesn't it feel like that?" She asked him.

"I suppose. Well answer me this, then, how long have we been in flight?"

"According to the screen, it seems like a couple of hours," Amy was worried. Even travelling with the Doctor, they would never take more than a few minutes to get to a place. She knew it was going to be London, but she had no idea why it was taking so long to get there.

The last few places they been were Chinatown, outside 221b Baker Street during Christmas, and in Speedy's. All within the times that Amy and Sherlock had close encounters.

In just a few seconds, the TARDIS finally landed.

"Wait," Amy stopped Sherlock before he exited the TARDIS.

"Oh, come on. We've been cooped in here for such a long time. I'd like some fresh air, if you don't mind!" Sherlock teased her.

"Let's just make sure it's London," Amy said, skipping to the monitor.

She had a momentary thought where she thought she could be the Doctor and Sherlock could be her companion. But only in another world.

"I'll bet you that it is!" Sherlock shouted from the doorway.

"Oh, go on then!" Amy said before she could turn the dials.

Sherlock opened the doors and went out, leaving Amy all alone. Confirming it was London, she checked the date. Didn't seem too important since she couldn't really remember it. She walked out the doors and into a busy street.

"Over here!" Sherlock waved Amy over to a window.

"What are you doing?" she laughed as she jogged over.

"Look!" Sherlock pointed.

It was them. The first day they laid eyes on each other. There was John and Sherlock to their left sitting in the corner table, and in the center was Amy. The owner was just going over to Sherlock's table. There was obvious chatter, but behind the window, Sherlock and Amy couldn't hear anything.

Then there it was.

The moment their eyes met.

It was just for a few seconds, but that started everything.

"Well look at that," Sherlock whispered.

"What?" Amy was looking, but not observing.

Sherlock turned to look at Amy, "if you never came in here. If I never told John to text the cab driver to meet at this street, we wouldn't have met."

The sound of a cab pulling up caught Sherlock attention. Even the Sherlock behind the window caught sight of the cab. The Sherlock standing beside Amy ran towards the cab as if he was still playing the game. Amy stood there, watching herself watch Sherlock and John. She never realized that she had so much curiosity and excitement in her face before. All of a sudden, Sherlock burst out the restaurant door. He stood beside Amy, but couldn't see her. He was looking at the Amy in the restaurant. That same innocent look.

Turning around to watch Sherlock and John run off, she realized that the other Sherlock – the one that she was traveling with – disappeared.

"Sherlock?!" she yelled but no one responded.

She crossed her arms and waited by the restaurant. Five minutes. The Amy in the restaurant decided to leave. She stopped in front of the restaurant to take in the night. Amy got up from her spot and walked towards her younger self. Amy had to smile at the wonderment and excitement just coming off of her younger version.

She walked off into the night, leaving the older Amy still waiting by the restaurant. Where in the world was Sherlock? Realizing that he wasn't going to instantly come back, she walked back to the TARDIS and waited. In that time she had alone, she fiddled with the console again. She played with the phone and dialled Sherlock's number to try to get him back.

"Mycroft? Why are you using a blocked number?" Sherlock answered.

She slammed the phone down. It wasn't the same Sherlock in her time stream. She didn't expect to reach a younger version of Sherlock. She decided to dial another number.

"Hello?"

"Amelia?"

"Who's this?"

"Don't worry about it," Amy responded.

"Do you want to talk to my Aunt Sharon?" Amelia asked in her seven year old voice.

"No," Amy paused. "Amelia. I promise that he'll be back for you. Just don't lose hope? Alright?"

"Are you talking about the Doctor? You've heard of him!" Amelia got excited.

Amy hung up the phone. Her heart sunk. Everyone – even Sherlock – always assumed that the moment she talked about someone leaving her or coming back to her, it was about the Doctor.

**SHERLOCK**

"Tell me, Amy, how many days has it been?" Sherlock was sitting in the chair that he always sat on in the TARDIS.

"About a week?" Amy did the math.

"A week?" Sherlock was surprised. "Are you sure?"

Time travel. Complicated.

"No, but doesn't it feel like that?" She smiled.

"I suppose. Well answer me this, then, how long have we been in flight?" They lifted off to go to a "new" destination a while ago, but they still haven't landed.

"According to the screen, it seems like a couple of hours," Amy was worried going by the tone of concern in her voice.

Finally, as if the TARDIS was listening, they landed.

"Wait," Amy stopped Sherlock before he exited the TARDIS.

"Oh, come on. We've been cooped in here for such a long time. I'd like some fresh air, if you don't mind!" Sherlock teased her.

Sherlock was getting restless and went out the doors. It was dark outside, still London, but he recognized the street right away. This was where he and John had their first case together. This is where they began to solidify a strange, but friendly relationship. Ignoring his cell phone's clock, he went over to Angelo's restaurant to see if they were in there. Sure enough, they were. They were just getting settled into their seats. Sherlock heard Amy coming out of the TARDIS and waved her over.

"Over here!" He was like an excited puppy.

"What are you doing?" she laughed as she came over.

"Look!" Sherlock pointed.

Sherlock watched as Amy saw what was happening. She had a gleam in her eye from the same sort of excitement that he was feeling. He couldn't help but smile. Sherlock turned his head just at the right moment to see when their past selves first saw each other.

"Well look at that," Sherlock heard himself quietly say.

"What?"

Sherlock turned to look at Amy, "if you never came in here. If I never told John to text the cab driver to meet at this street, we wouldn't have met."

There would never have been anything between them. There would be no air of mystery surrounding her. And he would have never fallen in love for the first time in his life. But he didn't say this to her. He couldn't.

A cab pulled up from behind. It was the murderer. Something made Sherlock jump into action to chase after the cab like he did before. This time, he got into the cab. He wanted to see the pills closer. It never really occurred to him to see if the American in the cab was killed, but he suspected that he would. Seeing as the other Sherlock wouldn't be able to realize it was the cab driver that was causing all the so-called suicides, he would have the best chance really seeing how it worked. Not that it mattered or anything.

Sherlock sat in the front seat. He saw the fake gun, the picture of the cabbie's kids, and the two bottles of pills sticking out of his pocket.

"Sorry about that," the cabbie informed him.

"That's fine," the American said.

Sherlock watched as the cab driver dropped off the American at his destination. Sherlock wondered for a moment why he didn't take him as a hostage and "speak to him." The cabbie was bordering on some sort of intelligence. Perhaps he didn't want to cause an international case. Or perhaps Moriarty was determined to keep it within the confines of the British peoples. Either way there would be no murder tonight and those pills would stay in the man's pants.

Sherlock was almost tempted to keep following the cab driver when he realized where he was. Besides the cabbie, he was alone. He'd left Amy Pond at the restaurant. What was wrong with him? He panicked and had to find a way back to the TARDIS. Taxis were no help, so he used his knowledge of the streets to find his way back. It was a terribly long walk. Sometime in his walk, something lit up in his brain. He didn't know how he figured it out, but he knew why they were stuck in the London limbo. He ran the rest of the way to get to the TARDIS.

When he arrived, he found Amy had fallen asleep by the console. She waited for him to come back. Putting his jacket over her shivering body, he contemplated a scenario. What if he never came back? What if she kept on waiting for him? Would she leave? What would happen to her? He realized that it already happened. He "died." She waited. She got married. She moved on.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**AMY&SHERLOCK**

Amy's eyes opened to watch Sherlock pacing back and forth. It was morning now and they were still in London. She wasn't too angry. Just a bit irritated. Everything could have gone wrong with the TARDIS and left Sherlock in their earlier time stream forever.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you waiting," Sherlock rubbed his head.

"That's fine," she gritted her teeth as she rubbed her eyes.

"No, it isn't," he took a breath. "Amy. Input the coordinates of Leadworth and the time we were there."

"You know we won't end up there," Amy stayed in her seat.

"Just. Trust me," Sherlock pointed at the console.

Amy groaned and did as she told, "now what?"

"Now, we're bringing you home," he said confidently with a hint of sadness.

"What?" That woke her up completely.

"You heard me correctly."

"You can't just fix the TARDIS," Amy scoffed. "We're in the crack. We can't just get out of it."

"It's not the TARDIS, Amy, that caused the crack. Even your Doctor said so himself."

"Then what is?"

"You know what it is. And I think you knew the whole time, you just didn't want to believe it yourself," Sherlock told Amy.

"What are you talking about?" Amy crossed her arms.

"Why the crack split open, why it closed, why we're stuck here."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sherlock," Amy said, but there was a nagging sensation in her head. Deep down, she knew what he was going to say. She just needed a little push to get her mind to wrap around the subject. This was what Sherlock was going to do and she wasn't sure if she was ready to hear it, much less go through with it.

"Remember when you saw John in the cab? You said he looks heartbroken, and using your words, you said 'like me.' Not in the past tense. You're heartbroken not because you're away from your husband, but because you will never be able to spend another day with me."

"But I am spending a day with you. I've been spending a week with you!"

"And you know why," Sherlock was honestly testing her patience.

"NO! I don't!" Amy was furious with him.

"It wasn't a coincidence that the crack opened when you agreed to one day with me, and that it closed because we kissed. It wasn't a coincidence that we're still here because secretly, you _want_ to be here with me. You and I," Sherlock took a breath. "We're the reason we're stuck here."

"What are you saying?" Amy said to him. He was talking like the Doctor – fast and not completely understandable.

"The universe clearly doesn't want us to be together. Why else would it cause a crack in the skin of the universe? It's broken. Choosing to be together meant that we'd be on the side where no one else would ever be able to see us again. Where everything wrong with this relationship would never be seen."

"This can't be true."

"You know it is. That's why you're heartbroken. Once you agreed to that one day, it opened. The universe found out that you and I thought there was chance for us to be together and it tried to take us away from reality. Maybe to seal the deal, maybe to test out something. Either way - "

"Either way, this isn't how it should be," Amy was disappointed.

"No, it shouldn't. You should be with Rory and the Doctor, and I should be in London with John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. That's what the universe wants. The universe basically made me run away from you and to follow the cab to make me remember that I'm supposed to stay in London where I solve these games. Amy, you couldn't remember that you came to visit because the universe doesn't want you to remember. The universe wants you to stay away from me," Sherlock tried his best to explain without hurting her feelings. "I don't know what kind of game the universe is playing here, but like you said. The TARDIS brings us to places with meaning. Maybe reliving old memories before they are completely forgotten? So if the universe is telling us to back off, maybe we should."

"I don't give a damn about the universe, Sherlock," Amy was fighting her tears from being so angry.

"Say you don't want to be with me," Sherlock demanded.

"No," she was being stubborn.

"Say it."

Amy sighed, "I don't want to be with you, Sherlock."

The both looked around, but nothing appeared.

"The universe doesn't believe you," Sherlock said. He needed her to believe in it. Whatever the universe was doing must have to do with protecting the both of them from whatever would happen in the future.

She couldn't fight the anger coming from her, "Why do you want this to happen, Sherlock! Why do you want me to leave? I thought you want to be with me!"

"I do! I DO!" Sherlock rushed up to her, hugging her, "I'd love to, but it can NEVER happen. And you can't want to be with me. You have Rory. I have to be in London and you have to be in Leadworth. That's what it is and that's what it always will be. It can never be Sherlock and Amy, and it never will be."

She pushed him away and turned around, "I waited for you. I waited a long time for you to not be dead. For you to show up one day, unharmed, and apologetic. But that day never came. You know, I don't think I'll ever hear that apology. Maybe you shouldn't have shown up on my wedding day if this is what was going to happen."

Sherlock was silent for a while, "sorry will never be enough. Not after what I've put you through."

"It's time to stop believing in you, isn't it?" Amy asked, surrendering to what Sherlock was saying. "For us to move on."

All of a sudden, the levers, buttons, and dials began to move automatically. The TARDIS regained its power and she was taking Amy and Sherlock somewhere. They held on for dear life as they flew through time and space. They landed with a thump. Amy shrugged at Sherlock and she walked to the door. Before she could open it, she heard pounding on the door.

"AMY?!" Rory was yelling on the other side.

She burst open the door and saw Rory with a huge smile on his face, and the Doctor with a relieved one on his face. They embraced as Sherlock stood leaning on the TARDIS. From behind him, a crack was closing. He watched it as the trio did their celebratory reunions. This was a crack not meant for people to be forgotten, but for people who wanted to escape the reality of their worlds and see what they were missing. All to have to return back to their normal lives.

"So Amy, we've figured it out!" The Doctor was cheery. "We figured out why you were taken by the crack but not forgotten!"

"That's alright Doctor. I know why," Amy looked at Sherlock. The Doctor was surprised.

Amy began explaining and Sherlock watched. She was excited. Instead of telling stories about the Doctor, she could tell one to him. Sherlock smiled and began walking away from the trio. If the universe didn't want him and Amy to be together, so be it. Amy belonged there, Sherlock didn't. He did have to return to London eventually, and he was sure that Amy wouldn't want to be there when she could be travelling in space. There was so much out there for the two of them, but they needed to be in their own lives to see it. Amy and Sherlock. Amy. Sherlock. Separated. Just like how the world needs it to be. From behind Rory and the Doctor, Amy saw that Sherlock was walking away.

"Sherlock," Amy called out to him. "Wait."

"Amy," Rory warned her.

"It's okay, moron," Amy kissed her husband. "Just saying good bye."

She jogged up to Sherlock.

"Friends?" Amy suggested a bit meekly.

The universe could handle that, right?

"I don't have ..." Sherlock started.

"Yeah, you do," she hugged him.

Sherlock hugged her back. It would be a long time before he'd see her again.

"I'll visit," she promised.

"I won't be at 221b Baker Street," he let go.

Amy smiled, "I'll wait for you, Sherlock. The consulting detective."

"But why?"

"Because you're worth it, and I've done my fair share of waiting. We will meet again somehow."

They both grinned at each other. Sad smiles. To them, it felt as if it was the last time Sherlock would see that red hair, and the last time Amy would see those eyes. Sherlock began taking off his scarf and put it around her neck.

"Here," Sherlock gave the scarf to her. "Take it."

"Thanks," she said.

They didn't want to leave, but it was only a matter of time before they would have to depart. They hugged again.

"Good bye, Amy Pond."

"Good bye, Sherlock Holmes."

* * *

_I actually intended to end it here, but there is just one more chapter that I wrote that I thought I might as well add. So keep your eyes peeled for that :) Thanks for reading!_


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

**SHERLOCK**

It was heartbreaking, but it had to be done. He had to say goodbye to the only girl he ever loved and probably will ever love. Admittedly, he didn't want to fall in love again because it wouldn't be the same. He knew it was just never meant to be, but it was a lot of fun while it lasted. Sherlock was still in Leadworth when she left to travel with her husband and the Doctor. What an extraordinary girl.

He had to smile at the thought of her.

Sherlock was right when he told John he'd never meet a girl like that ever again because how in the world was Sherlock going to meet a girl like that? A girl who travels through time and space with an alien. No one can top that. Ever.

He looked at his phone for anything new. With a new phone and a new number, not many people contacted him. He found it weird – the silence and slow pace of being "dead." Was he ready to return to London? Was John ready?

Night fell over Leadworth and Sherlock was packing his stuff into his suitcase. He wanted to get away from the dreary town. Like Amy, it was time to forget. Before he could leave though, he sent a text.

**AMY**

It was night time in the TARDIS but Amy couldn't sleep. She just said her farewell to Sherlock and this time she was certain that she would never see him again. She carefully went out of her room that she shared with Rory and out into the main console area. She enjoyed fiddling with things when she was alone and couldn't sleep. The Doctor was nowhere to be seen. She was throwing her phone around in the air and catching it. Not as fun as playing with the Doctor's screwdriver, but it was enough to satisfy her.

She sat down in her – Sherlock's – seat and looked through her phone. It had been a while since she looked at her phone. She had a few texts from Rory and some weird alien file from the Doctor. Nothing from the detective or his best friend. What the hell. She dialled John's number. The universe never said that she couldn't talk to John.

Amy placed her phone to her ear, "Hello, John?"

"Amy?" John was shocked to hear her voice.

"Sorry I haven't called in a while," Amy apologized.

She wasn't really sure what to say, and going by the silence on the other end, neither did John.

"That's fine. How've you been?"

"Um, married now, actually," she looked at her wedding ring.

"Oh, really? Lucky fellow, I'm betting."

"Yes, he's great. Sorry, John. Um, I don't think I should have called," she wanted to tell him that Sherlock was alive, but it wasn't her job to tell.

"Oh."

"Because I have something to tell you, but I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to find out soon. Real soon," Amy began getting very cryptic.

"Amy – "

"Just don't give up hope. I know you're still hurting, but just don't give up."

"Amy, you're not making any sense."

"I know. I don't think I ever will. Seems to be my nickname. You know, besides the Girl Who Waited.," Amy was rambling and was sure John didn't understand any of the references.

"What are you going on about, then?"

There was a silence.

"Amy?"

She smiled, thinking that giving one good hint would be all it takes, "John?"

"Yeah."

"Check your trunk."

"What?"

Amy hung up, leaving John really confused as to what just happened. Somewhere in the middle of the galaxy, Amy was giggling to herself. She probably shouldn't have done it, but Sherlock wasn't going to, and she wanted to help alleviate the pain. She knows how it felt to lose Sherlock, but John was friends with him long before Amy even set eyes on the duo. With that, she happily went to bed, wondering where the Doctor was going to take them next. But she fell asleep with the consulting detective still stuck in her mind. No more nightmares.

Back in London, in John's flat, he looked for the trunk that he stored away in the back of his closet. It was true – he hadn't looked at it since just after the fall. He wasn't even sure what was still in there. Some books, his army uniform and supplies – and the coat. Sherlock's coat. John began digging through the trunk to see that it was missing. He was confused. The only person that ever knew about that trunk was him, Amy, and... oh.

John laughed.

"That son of a ..."

That was the first time John laughed in a very long time.

John's phone beeped. One new message. John looked at his phone suspecting that Amy was texting him, but he didn't recognize the number. He opened the message nevertheless.

_Hello, John. SH._

* * *

_Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for reading this relatively long story! I really hope you enjoyed (or if you didn't, I'm glad you even managed to get to the end) what you've read. If you're a fan of my writing (yay!), please look forward to some Amy/Sherlock stories. So I hope to find the time in my horribly busy school schedule to unleash my imagination on this site with some really random stories about them. _

_Yay! Thanks again for reading!_


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